


Victim of Love

by Waning_Grace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Gadreel (Supernatural), Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ankle Cuffs, Anxiety Attacks, Beating, Beta Benny Lafitte, Beta Hannah (Supernatural), Beta Meg Masters, Blood and Gore, Broken Bones, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehydration, Drinking, Drugging, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, F/M, Gaslighting, Handcuffs, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Imprisonment, Injury Recovery, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence, Nonbinary Character, Obsessive Behavior, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Physical Abuse, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sick Dean Winchester, Snuggle Bear, Stalking, Starvation, Watersports, hurt/not much comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 60,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waning_Grace/pseuds/Waning_Grace
Summary: From the outside twenty-six year old male omega Dean Winchester has a life most omegas would envy. He has a comfortable home, a handful of good friends, and is a TV star alongside his younger brother Sam. On the inside, however, he’s slowly but surely falling apart. Despite having everything Dean is missing the one thing an omega needs to survive: an alpha. While there’s plenty of contenders to choose from Dean keeps looking for ‘the one’. It’s a choice not without complications: his heats have become brutal and the anxiety that follows is getting harder and harder to keep at bay.Enter Castiel Novak. Hired onto the drama as a guest star for the latest season, the 30-year-old alpha is calm, cool, and by all outward appearances, collected. Much to everyone’s amazement he and Dean hit it off immediately. It’s a match made in heaven–or is it? There’s a darker side to the alpha that’s got Sam worried, but will Dean see the light in time? Or will he become another victim of Castiel’s love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I'd like to take a quick moment to say a huge "THANK YOU" to all my friends who encouraged me to keep writing on this because if it wasn't for you this story never would have been completed. Huge thanks also to NovaMitchell and LeafZelindor for beta-ing as well!
> 
> Also I'd like to say thanks to Sissyray84 for the lovely art!
> 
> Okay, now the nitty-gritty: PLEASE READ AND HEED THE TAGS! Unlike the rest of my fics this is NOT a nice story and contains many things that could potentially be triggering so please read the tags before you begin and take care!

**Warning: NSFW artwork!!**

From the outside looking in, Dean Winchester was a male omega who had it all: moderate fame and fortune-- thanks to the kickass television show he starred in alongside his brother Sam. All in all, it was the apple pie life and Dean appeared to be eating it up with both hands.

On the inside, however, things weren’t that simple. Oh, the fame and fortune and nice house was all true, of course, but none of that mattered since Dean was alone. While he relished playing bad-boy, heartthrob Jensen Ackles in real life he was about as far from being the man as he could get. The fact that he was already twenty-six and wasn’t mated, or even had an alpha for that matter, hung over his head like a pendulum.

Normally he could ignore it but on mornings like this one, where he’d woken tired and strung out after finally coming down from yet another grueling eight-day heat, the realization that he wasn’t getting any younger was like a slap in the face. It hardly helped matters that he hated mornings like they were a plague either. They were usually far too early for his taste, too bright, and often contained Dean’s overly cheerful, seemingly perpetual easy-going, personal driver Benny picking him up.

Benny was a big, burly beta man who was nothing more than a giant teddy bear once one got past his tough looking exterior. He and his alpha wife, Andrea, lived in the next neighborhood over and Dean had become close to them both. Despite Benny’s overly happy attitude that drove Dean crazy most mornings, he was incredibly grateful to call the guy his friend-- especially on mornings like this one when he’d rather just crawl back in bed than deal with the world at large.That didn’t mean he was going to make things any easier for himself or Benny. 

Case in point: Benny had just pulled up, and while Dean hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d stationed himself on his front steps with his head in his hands, he could tell the beta was smiling. It was just the way the man was; even Dean’s grumpy ass wasn’t going to change it.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Benny called as he parked and got out of the SUV. It was another thing that Dean had no hope of ever changing—no matter how many times he’d insisted otherwise Benny always made the effort to usher him into the car properly. It usually set Dean scowling in mock fierceness (something Benny completely ignored) yet today he didn’t even lift his head when he heard the backseat door open.

There was a beat of silence. When no answer was forthcoming Dean listened to the crunch of gravel under the other man’s boots as he turned to look at him. “You okay there, brother?” Benny asked, worry edging into his normally calm scent. “You need me to call someone?”

“Just peachy.” Dean grunted, making no move to get into the car.He knew they were on a schedule—it was the same damn one every day—but he didn’t give a damn this morning. He lifted his head, giving Benny a good view of his blood-shot eyes and pale-white face, ignoring his offer to call someone. “Please tell me you brought coffee.”

Instead of responding outright Benny simply rolled his eyes before turning to reach back into the car. “Had a feeling you might be needin’ one this morning.” He said before the smell of freshly brewed coffee split the air as he pulled from the back of the car a large to-go cup. “You sure you’re up for this?”

Dean scoffed; he couldn’t help it; it was such a ridiculous question! “Course I’m up for it,” he drawled in his best imitation of a thick southern accent. “I’m Jensen Ackles; I’m ready for anything!” It was a convincing performance…or would have been if he hadn’t looked like day-old roadkill.

Seeing the way Benny was eyeing him with something akin to sympathy, Dean hunched down into himself and settled for glowering. “You know I gotta go back in today.” He finally said, voice subdued and filled with the exhaustion he was feeling. “I’ve already been gone eight days, anymore and we’ll get behind more than just one episode.”

“That’s a buncha horseshit if I ever heard any!” Benny rumbled, sounding fierce, but his scent only relayed sorrow rather than anger as he came closer with Dean’s coffee. “I know you’re under contact and all but there ain’t any sense in you going in before you’re ready. It would be no problem to call you in sick another day.”

Despite himself Dean had to smile. Leave it to Benny to get protective of him like he was one of the man’s pups or something. “I appreciate it,” he said as he reached for the coffee cup. “But I’ll go. If I miss any more days Sam’ll show up like the overprotective mother hen he is and start stinking the place up with his worried pheromones!” Dean scrunched up his nose just thinking about it and took a big sip of his coffee just to get the phantom scent out of his head.

“If you’re sure about it chief,” Benny simply sounded resigned; this was a conversation they’d had more than once in the past and he’d never managed to win one yet. Feeling awkward hovering there he turned and sunk down on the steps beside Dean. He knew they were getting off schedule, but if Dean didn’t care then just this once Benny found he didn’t care either. 

  
“When you’re ready, we’ll head out.” He said leaning back to look up at the sky, partially to give Dean some privacy to get his head on right, and partially to watch the changing colors of the sunrise.


	2. Chapter 2

They spent the next twenty minutes in companionable silence and comfort. It went a long way to easing some of Dean’s frayed nerves. In truth he knew he wasn’t ready to go back to work; even putting aside the paleness, the blood-shot eyes, and the lingering exhaustion, Dean felt like warned over crap. Everything in him begged for him to go burrow back under the blankets until he felt better. He wasn’t wrong when he told Benny he needed to go back today. Heat leave is a mandated requirement for all omegas, but it’s also only supposed to last four to five days…Not eight. Dean was messed up like that; had been since he presented, yet there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He couldn’t change his biology no matter how much he may have wanted to. The only thing he could do was live with it and try to make the most of it, no matter how much it may suck.

Dean knew he can’t put it off any longer. Sitting the empty coffee cup beside him, he turned to Benny with the barest hint of a smile. “So, did you bring breakfast as well?”

It’s a familiar request, and just like every time he’s asked it, Benny turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised. “Breakfast, eh?” He parrots, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of his tone, “Do I look like I work for McDonald’s?” 

Dean paused, giving Benny a thoughtful once-over as he pretended to think about it. “I dunno,” he finally said, doing far better at keeping himself in check than Benny. “You’d probably have to lose the beard and the ‘tude at the very least, but yeah. I can picture it.”

For a moment Benny simply gaped at him, mouth hanging open in shock before he tossed his head back and let loose with a bellowing laugh. It’s a jovial sound, and just like the silence from a few moments ago, it helped ease something deep within Dean. He grinned, caught up in the humor, and before he knew it, he’s laughing alongside Benny.

“Damn, kid!” Benny exclaims some long minutes later, still chuckling between the words. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a while!” He reached out, his large hand heavy and warm where it pats against Dean’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “I didn’t bring anything because I wasn’t sure you’d be up to eating but I think we have time to swing around someplace before I drop you off.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head as the rest of his mirth fades slowly away. “Are you sure man? We’re already pushing it…” They were, though it’s not like Dean overly cares. He just spent eight days miserable as fuck; he deserved a few minutes (or an hour, who’s he kidding?) of entertainment before dragging back into the grind once again.

“Psshhh! We’ll make time.” The hand not on Dean’s shoulder waves dismissively like it’s not Benny’s ass on the line alongside Dean’s the longer they drag things out. “Can’t send you off going hungry, can I? What kind of bodyguard would I be?”

Dean rolls his eyes in response but his heart warms at hearing Benny’s casual dismissal like that. He knows he won’t get into too much trouble—he is the second lead after all—but Benny could reap the fallout for them both. The fact that the beta is willing to do so just for Dean’s personal comfort warms him to his toes. “We gotta make sure to get you something as well.” He declares; if Benny’s making sure he gets fed then he’s darn well going to make sure Benny gets something to eat as well.

“Sure brother, whatever you say,” Benny says but his subtle calming scent is shot through with gratitude, and there’s no hiding the grin splitting his face underneath his beard. “Are you ready to go then?”

He isn’t, not really, but Dean buries his discomfort down deep and doesn’t quite have to fake the smile that crosses his face when he looks back to Benny. “Yeah, let’s do it.” He says, slapping both hands down on his thighs before he finally pushes his way to his feet. Dean wobbles for a second once he’s standing—a sure sign he’s not as fine as he pretends to be—but he ignores it and forces himself to walk down the sidewalk to where the SUV is parked. “You coming?” He calls over his shoulder, pausing with one hand resting on the still-open door to turn around to look at Benny.

For his part Benny simply shakes his head, amazed and saddened as he watches Dean go. It’s obvious to him the omega is still hurting, still feeling the after-effects of his heat, yet there’s little he can do to help. As a beta his naturally calming scent helps—that was part of the reason he broke protocol to sit beside Dean for a while—yet the older man can’t help the way his heart clenches at seeing his friend suffer. It’s been this way for years now, practically ever since they met, yet it bothers him every single time. He looks skyward, momentarily ignoring Dean, and sends up a quick prayer to whoever might be listening that an alpha would come along who could properly help Dean. The omega wouldn’t thank him for it, had he known, but Benny supposed what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. It wasn’t likely such a prayer would be answered anyhow—Dean was far too stubborn for that.

Feeling Dean’s eyes on him, Benny tilted his head down to find that he was right and met Dean’s inquiry with the patented smirk that he knew drove the omega crazy. “Impatient now, are we?” He chuckled as he rose to his feet. “You must be starving then!”

Just as predicted, Dean scowled in the face of Benny’s smirk, and instead of answering he got into the vehicle instead. It’s as good of a declaration without him coming out and saying anything, and Benny can’t help but chuckle at the display. Dean was many things, but subtle he was not.

Shaking his head, and still chuckling to himself under his breath, Benny walked down the walkway and got into the driver’s seat. In the back Dean had melted into the plush leather seat, his head tilted back, and eyes closed, though the scowl remained firmly in place. It’s adorable—though that’s not something Benny would ever admit out loud—and he can’t help grinning at the sight. “Let’s go get some grub!” He calls out cheerfully as he starts the vehicle back up.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end they’re more than an hour and a half late by the time they get to the edge of the field that’s serving as the week’s current shooting location and the breakfast Dean had just eaten was sitting like a lump in his stomach. Anxiety twisted behind his ribs as he eyed the rows of cars and trailers getting larger as they pulled up. While this was hardly his first heat leave since he’d started working he couldn’t help the swell of unwanted nerves attacking him every damn time he had to return to work like this. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of, Dean knew, for every omega’s had heats but still. There was just something that unsettled him about the whole process of returning—it was feeling a million eyes on him even when there weren’t any at all. It made his skin crawl and he couldn’t help the shudder that ripped through him as he tried burying himself deeper into the thick hoodie he’d chosen that morning.

From the front seat Benny eyed over his charge worriedly, but he made sure to keep his opinions to himself. They’d had this conversation in the past yet nothing had ever come of it except Dean burying everything down deeper like he was truly ashamed. It was a process Benny had no desire to repeat in any form so he wisely kept his feelings to himself. He cleared his throat, aiming and somewhat hitting a cheerful note as he said: “Where do you want dropped off, chief?” In a field such as this, there wasn’t exactly a front door to deposit Dean at so he waited to see what the omega would want.

“Hm?” Dean mumbled, lost more in his head than paying any attention to what was going on outside of it. He blinked, suddenly remembering where he was and what he was supposed to be doing and met Benny’s gaze in the rearview mirror with a frown. “Anywhere is fine, I guess…” He replied quietly; stomach twisted into knots. There were various people milling about almost everywhere; crew, caterers, mechanics, stuntmen, and of course the rest of the cast. Dean hadn’t spotted Sam yet, but he was sure his brother had to be there somewhere. It hardly mattered where Benny dropped him off someone was bound to see Dean and then it wouldn’t be long before Sam emerged. As much as Dean missed seeing his brother—it had been a terribly lonely week between the bouts of fever and agony—Dean wasn’t ready to face him yet. It was childish, he knew, and something he’d never admit to least he hurt Sam’s feelings, but he couldn’t help it. His inner omega was still hurting, still feeling rejected, and wasn’t ready to be surrounded by an alpha yet…even if the alpha in question was Dean’s baby brother.

“You sure, brother?” Benny rumbled quietly, just to make sure as he glanced back at Dean. His steady calm scent was bleeding into protective, yet he made no effort to reign it in, gratified to see the way Dean inhaled the lavender smell rather than complain about it. “I got no problem in telling them you got sick on the way.”

Oh, but that was tempting. Dean closed his eyes, letting the strong smell of fresh lavender sweep him away. It’d be easy to call in sick, it wasn’t like anyone could see him through the SUV’s tinted windows anyway, but deep down he knew he couldn’t. Heat sickness was a very real thing that had always ended with a hospital stay in Dean’s experience and considering how crappy he already felt he didn’t want to tempt fate on top of it. “Yeah…” He exhaled, feeling somewhat better than he had moments ago, and opened his eyes again. “I’m sure.”

Benny was hardly surprised; for as long as he’d known Dean the man had been a stubborn bastard in the worst of times, pushing himself until he couldn’t anymore. Still, he was glad he asked even if Dean declined. “How about right up here?” He asked, turning his attention back onto the narrow roadway that’d been made to navigate the field.

Up ahead was a string of familiar looking white trailers—makeup and wardrobe—and Dean nodded his agreement upon seeing them. There were other places he should have probably went first, like checking in with his bosses and the folks running the show, but the idea of hanging out in the trailers while the workers turned him into Jensen was far too tempting to pass up. If nothing else it’d provide a place to hide, plus it’d give him more time to screw his head on right before he finally made his way onto the set.

“Sounds good.” He told Benny, shooting him a grateful grin through the rearview mirror. While he hated to be hovered over (and Benny knew it) he couldn’t help but feel grateful that the man was determined to give him a way out in any form he possibly could.

In the front Benny simply smiled though Dean couldn’t see it. He was quite pleased that Dean was going along with his idea, something his scent was no doubt giving away, though he didn’t care. Someone had to look out for him since Dean didn’t seem to be willing to do it himself. He guided the SUV as close to the trailers as he could get before throwing it in park. He shifted, turning as far as he could in the seat to give Dean a proper once-over before the younger male fled the vehicle. “If you need anything just give me a call an’ I’ll be here, alright?”

“Yeah yeah, mother hen!” Dean grumbled, though the smile slowly crawling across his face and the way his scent turned pleased belayed his grumpy attitude. He popped the lock and slid out of the car, but before he shut the door he popped his head back inside. “Thanks Benny,” He said, smile blinding, and then he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean couldn’t believe his luck. Somehow, and he still wasn’t sure how, he managed to avoid Sam clear through his morning routine. Instead of being attacked by a giant sasquatch as soon as he’d gotten out of the car like he had feared, Dean had found himself having a relatively quiet morning. He had snagged a cup of coffee from the food tent and drunk it on his way to get his costume on. It had been nice, though Dean couldn’t help feeling a bit suspicious over it. Sam was usually on top of him the second he stepped foot on the property after being off and for him not to be right there up in Dean’s face was more than a little weird. _Sammy must be hiding out or Bobby’s got him on a short least today! _Dean mused as he headed from the wardrobe trailer over to the makeup one. He felt heavy in Jensen’s costume—a pair of thick black jeans, a matching black t-shirt, and a maroon over shirt—and he rolled his shoulders as he walked to help alleviate the discomfort. It didn’t help much, not that he had truly expected it to. The heavy feeling was just another stupid side effect left over from his heat that Dean was stuck living with no matter how much it annoyed him.

He huffed, irritable, as he bounced up the few steps into the trailer and popped his head inside. Seeing no one in his direct line of sight Dean pushed the door open further and slipped inside. He’d have-imagined running straight into Sam here where he would only have one way to escape if need be but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. While the trailer was spacious it wasn’t big enough for Dean, Trish who oversaw makeup, and Shelley who typically did his hair, plus his Sasquatch of a younger brother. So, to say that Dean was relieved that there was no Sam in sight was an understatement. He let out a calming breath and rolled his shoulders again.

_ I must have come during the breakfast rush!  _ Dean thought as he looked around the quiet trailer. He didn’t go far, just over to the makeup bench where he’d be going anyway and plopped down. He wasn’t used to being in here when it was so quiet—normally the place was a riot of chatter and background noise as he and whatever guest stars they had for the day got ready—but Dean liked the contrast.  _ Maybe I can always start back after a heat like this _ … He mused, watching himself in the large mirror as he fiddled with the brushes that had been left out on the counter.

Thankfully it wasn’t too much longer before Dean heard raised voices and the tell-tell rattle of someone heading up the trailer steps. He leaned back from the counter though he made no move to disband the small teepee village he’d ended up making out of the makeup brushes. He thought it was cute, and besides, what were they going to do—fire him? Still, he plastered on his best smile as the door opened and Trish and her team came inside. “Hello ladies, how nice of you to join me!”

The eye roll he got from Trish was worth it, especially when the dark-haired beta broke into a smile a moment later. “You’re incorrigible!” She told him, laughing. “Have you been here long? Sam said you were coming back today but he didn’t mention you’d already arrived.” The rest of the team spread out, getting their stations ready for the day, but Trish made a beeline over to Dean. “I would have snagged you something to snack on if I’d known you were waiting for me!”

Dean shook his head, his smile morphing into something more real in the face of hers. “Nah.” He waved her off. “I haven’t been here that long, maybe a few minutes at most. You saw the Sasquatch? Is he heading this way?” If he was Dean wanted to know; the best defense against his annoying little brother and way too probing questions was a good offense. “And you’ll just owe me a double snack next time!”

Trish shook her head, though the smile she gave Dean was nothing but fond. They’d been working together long enough that she knew he was simply kidding. It was far more likely that next time he would be bringing her a snack rather than the other way around! “I did see your brother,” she said, giving him a raised eyebrow as she began dismantling one of the makeup brush teepees. “He was getting ready to head to the sound stage with the new fellow. Have you met him yet?”

Ah, the new guy. Dean had heard they were bringing someone in for an episode or two but he hadn’t remembered when they were supposed to start.  _ I bet Sam’s talking the poor guy’s ears off!  _ He thought with no small amount of satisfaction. Sam liked to talk, and Dean had no doubt he’d been doing so non-stop since he ran into the new guy.  _ I almost feel sorry for the new sucker…not!  _ It was a terrible thing to be gleeful about but if it spared Dean the inquisition for now then who was he to complain? “I haven’t seen him yet. What’s he like? Is he hot?” He playfully waggled his eyebrows up at Trish. It was all in good fun; the guy wouldn’t be hanging around long enough for Dean to truly care if he was hot or not.

Trish glanced from one side of their little area to the other but nobody was paying them any mind. With a telling twinkle in her dark eyes she leaned down close enough to whisper in Dean’s ear: “As a matter of fact he was!” She pulled back with a smirk, looking exactly like the cat who’d gotten the canary. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you see him!”

“Oh really?” Dean cocked an eyebrow at her, intrigued. He had seen a lot of good-looking guest stars come through in the past but none had managed to capture his attention. Sam said he was too picky, and really what did he know just because he met his mate during filming? But Trish was of the mind that Dean just hadn’t met the elusive ‘right one’ yet. It was a phrase Bobby tossed out there as well and often found Dean rolling his eyes in response. He’d never been one to believe in that whole ‘love at first sight/instant attraction’ stuff that every piece of media since the dawn of time seemed to tout. It was just a big gimmick in his opinion. So now, to have Trish telling him he’d be pleased with the new guy, he was curious to say the least. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.” He mused.

“Trust me!” Trish chuckled as she set out what she’d need to work on Dean with. She hadn’t gotten to speak to the new guest for long but she had a feeling Dean was going to like him. If nothing else she was sure the man’s messy dark hair and bright blue eyes would lure the stubborn omega in. Lord knew the boy needed to find someone to have some fun with—he worked too much as it was. “Now let’s get you ready to go so you can meet this mystery man!”

Dean rolled his eyes but obediently sat back in the chair. “I’m taking your word on this!” He warned, though he couldn’t keep a smile from crossing his face. He figured Trish was playing it up for laughs and he was happy to oblige her. There was no harm in it and if on the off chance he did end up liking the guy after he met him Dean would deal with the ‘I told you so’s’ then.

Less than an hour later, thanks to the magic of Trish and her team Dean had been transformed into Jensen, TV’s next heartthrob. He’d been scrubbed, shaved, made-up, and had his hair done and slicked back within an inch of his life. It was amazing what some makeup and hair gel could do to a guy, Dean mused as he headed across the lot to the sound-stage. No matter how many times he went through the process it still awed him just like it was the first time all over again. 

He was still marveling when he rounded the corner and ran practically head first into someone. “Ooof!” Dean stumbled backwards, face heating in embarrassment. “Sorry man, I totally wasn’t looking where I was going!” He apologized as he straightened up. “You okay?” 

As far as first days went Castiel Novak was having a banner one depending on who you asked. It certainly hadn’t gone anything close to being on his plan thus far and most of that could squarely be blamed on Sam Winchester. Castiel had ran into the younger alpha shortly after he arrived on the set and the man had barely let him out of sight since! If that hadn't been bad enough (and it was) he had spoke non-stop as he followed Castiel around like a lost puppy. And worst, he talked about  _ everything _ ! Just when Castiel was sure there was nothing left to go on about Sam managed to find a new topic. It was maddening! To make matters worse, he hadn’t even met the other Winchester brother, Dean, yet despite the fact they were supposed to have several scenes later on. Castiel didn’t know what kind of place they ran here but it certainly wasn’t like any set he’d ever been on before. 

By the time he and Sam had made it on set Castiel was already starting to form a picture in his mind of this Dean. They still had yet to see him but rumors abound everywhere from the food tent to the makeup trailer. From what he could gather Dean had taken off the past week for a vacation, which considering they were in the middle of filming, was nothing short of ludicrous. Plus it seemed the man’s late state wasn’t a cause for concern either! Supposedly he’d show when he’d show and everyone seemed A-okay with it! Needless to say Castiel had him picked as a grade-A prick without even meeting him. Dean may have everyone else fooled but he wasn’t going to fool Castiel, no way. 

Since they were waiting for Dean to grace them all with his presence Castiel decided to take a little time for himself. After the morning he had he desperately needed a smoke. He pulled out the lone cigarette he’d managed to stuff into the pocket of the ridiculously tight jeans they’d given him to wear as he rounded the corner...only to run smack into another person! He grunted, swearing under his breath as his cigarette fell, and bent over to retrieve it. At hearing the stumbling apology from above him he looked up and froze. The man standing just a few feet away, still spouting apologizes and blushing beautifully, was gorgeous if Castiel was any judge. Slick backed brownish blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and a body that could make a sculpture weep. He licked his lips, trying to subtly scent the air as he stood. “It’s no problem.” He said smoothly, carefully tucking the cigarette back into his pocket. “Are you okay?”

Hot  _ damn _ ! Dean nearly choked on his tongue as the guy stood and he got a good look at him. He was like something out of Dean’s deepest fantasies--messy dark hair and eyes so blue Dean wanted to drown himself in them. He didn’t mean to stare, but really, who could blame him? While the guy was occupied picking up something off the ground Dean drank his fill, trying to commit every angle to memory for later. As such he had a good view of watching the way the guy’s nostrils flared making Dean freeze in his observations. Staring was bad enough, but trying to scent someone without their permission? That was worse, at least from what Dean had always been told. He stood stock-still, brain flat-lining on just what he was supposed to do in this situation. He supposed he could yell but what kind of douche would that make him, especially since he was not so subtly checking the dude out? “Sorry man.” He offered again after a pause when it appeared his brain was still out for the count.

_ Mmmmm….  _ The man smelled  _ divine!  _ A sweet mix of sandalwood, rose, and a lily with just the barest tang of ozone hit his nose causing Castiel to damn near purr from pleasure.  _ He’s an omega! _ His eyes flashed red briefly before he could get himself under control and he found himself averting his eyes in sudden embarrassment.  _ Get a grip Novak!  _ He chided himself though it fell on deaf (mental) ears due to the sheer overpowering of the man’s scent. “Please accept my apologies as well.” He said, meaning for more than nearly running the guy down. Since he felt like he could reasonably look the man in the face again he turned back to him and offered his hand. “My name is Castiel.”

Dean continued to stare. He couldn’t help it; the guy was still trying to scent him and honestly Dean didn’t know what to do here. Worse than that, though, was his reaction to it. His jeans had grown tighter the longer he watched the way the man scented the air leaving Dean feeling awkwardly aroused. It was, without a doubt, a weird position to be in yet Dean found he didn’t want to leave. He hunched in on himself when the guy turned for all the good it would do since he was pretty sure the guy could smell he was aroused if the obvious bulge in his pants didn’t give him away first. “I’m Dean.” He said, slowly reaching out to shake Castiel’s. “Nice to meet ya.”

So this was the infamous Dean Winchester? Castiel nearly laughed in surprise because, really? This incredibly sweet smelling, ultra hot omega was to be his new costar? He couldn’t help it: he snorted, beyond amused. “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you!” None of it had painted a good picture but there was no need to tell Dean that. “I didn’t imagine I’d run into you quite so literally!” 

"Me either!" Where Castiel had held back, Dean didn't. He laughed, shaking his head. "Weird how that happens huh?" He asked between chuckles. "Sounds like you've been hanging out with my brother eh? He talk your ear off?" Dean could see it happening, sometimes Sam was too much like an overly excited puppy for his own good.

"How could you tell?" Castiel said dryly, though he was still smiling. "Your brother seems to be a good man. He made sure I knew what I was getting into here!" Or not getting into considering Castiel had barely had a moment to himself since he arrived to the set.

“You have the same look everyone else gets when Sammy talks their ears off!” Dean snickered despite knowing exactly how Castiel felt. Sam had talked Dean’s ear off more times that he could recall! He sobered some, casting Castiel a curious look. “Aside from my well meaning annoying brother are you enjoying your first day?”

Castiel gave in and laughed, just barely resisting rolling his eyes at Dean’s antics. He was surprised, Dean seemed to be nothing like how he had imagined he would be. It was refreshing to say the least. “I enjoyed my talks with Sam.” He said earnestly, “It was nice to be able to come onto the set and have someone treat me like I belonged rather than just being another faceless guest star of the week.”

Leave it to Sam to be the welcoming wagon. Dean smiled to himself, pleased that his brother had reached out to Castiel. It was more than he had done and he’d nearly ran the guy down! He opened his mouth, fully intending to ask Castiel more about where he’d worked before when a loud shout from the inside of the sound stage startled him: “IF YOU TWO LADIES ARE DONE GETTING ACQUAINTED I’D LIKE TO GET STARTED SOMETIME TODAY!”

Dean jumped and turned, not the least bit surprised to see their director, Bobby Singer, standing there with his bullhorn in his hands and a pissed off look on his face.  _ Ugh _ . Dean knew that look--it was the ‘you’re in deep shit now boy’ look and it never boded well for Dean in the past. He turned his head enough to look back at Castiel. “I think we’re needed there.” He stage whispered sheepishly.

The shout made Castiel jump as well. He was still shaking as he moved closer, looking over Dean’s shoulder at the older man in plaid who was clearly glaring at them across the large space. Castiel hadn’t met Singer yet but judging from the look on the other man’s face he’d definitely made an impression, and not a good one at that. He met Dean’s look with a frown as he forced himself to step back away from the omega. “It’d seem so.” He sighed, not looking forward to getting his ass chewed out on his first day. “After you then.” Considering Dean was the reason they were in this mess in the first place it only seemed fitting that he should take the lead.

“Oh, thanks a lot.” Dean sulked, feeling like a pup who’d done something wrong. He hadn’t done anything! Except, you know, the whole nearly running Castiel over thing, but still! He didn’t want to get chewed out any more than Castiel did, and quite possibly less so! He sighed, wallowing in the feeling for a second before he reached out and clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “C’mon!” He said, trying to inject cheerfulness into his tone as he steered the alpha inside, slightly in front of him. “Let’s go face the music together!” 


	5. Chapter 5

“CUUUUUUUT!”

The shout echoes loudly across the soundstage, startling the cast and crew alike. Near instantly everything grinds to a halt and in less than a handful of moments silence falls over the large enclosed space. Dean blinks, surprised, from his place in the middle of the set, fake pistol still clutched in his hand. He lowers the gun slowly, sparing a glance over at his brother as he does. Sam, standing a few feet away and holding his own gun, looks equally befuddled at the sudden stop. While this wasn’t the first halt they’d come to this morning everything seemed to be going well as far as they could tell. Dean cocked a questioning eyebrow at Sam who merely shrugged. In near perfect unison they turned to look at the source of the shout: their director Bobby Singer.

Singer was an older alpha with a perpetual grumpy attitude, at least until you got to know him, who had a fondness for wearing plaid and a worn trucker’s cap. He held a no-nonsense attitude when it came to work and was quite well known for being the best in the business because of it. He’d been a close friend of the brother’s father as they grew up and had been the one to come up with the show in the first place. While he ran a tight ship he treated everyone—from cast to crew to the caters—like they were family. In the moment, however, he didn’t look like family, or even very friendly with the way his face had morphed into a giant scowl.

Dean swallowed hard, feeling rooted to the spot suddenly. It was hard to tell with the bright stage lights shining in his eyes, but he was sure it was him Bobby was glaring at. The thought made his stomach twist into knots; what’d he done? He didn’t think he’d messed up his lines again, although since he’d been off several days it was possible he was remembering them wrong. Anxiety curled low in his gut, making him squirm. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you look at it, Dean’s fears were confirmed a second later when Singer bellowed: “Dean Winchester! Get yer ass over here!”

_ Son of a bitch! _ Dean mentally curses, shooting a despairing looking at Sam. His brother, of course, pretends to be busy fiddling with the fake gun in his own hands and completely ignores it. Slowly huffing out a long breath, Dean resigns himself to getting yelled at on his first day back. Great, just friggin’ great. “Good goin’ Winchester!” He grouses to himself under his breath as he gets moving, beyond annoyed that he’s messed up so much on his first day back.

It doesn’t take long to cross the stage over to where Bobby’s standing, but Dean sure wishes it did. His heart started thumping painfully in his chest and the urge to run and hide somewhere like in the bathroom had risen to a near unbearable level. It wasn’t that Dean was scared of Bobby—he wasn’t! —but the aftermath of his heat always left his emotions a giant jumbled mess and today was no exception. Still, he somehow manages to summon up a charming smile from somewhere inside and aims it at Bobby when he gets close enough. “You rang?”

Bobby huffs in response to Dean’s cockiness, though there’s a tell-tale twitching to the corners of his mouth that belay his annoyance. “Yeah, ya idjit,” he starts, the familiar nickname oddly soothing to Dean’s tightly keyed nerves. “You mind telling me what the hell you were doing out there?”

For the second time in the span of ten minutes Dean blinks, startled. “I…was acting?” He says slowly, feeling like he’s somehow stepped on a landmine without knowing it. “Everything was going okay!” He throws in, although considering the look Bobby’s giving him, Dean isn’t necessarily sure anymore.

“Oh? Acting huh? Is that what they’re calling standing there like a lump on a log nowadays?” Bobby doesn’t hold back on the sarcasm, though his gruff tone is mild. “Boy, you looked like your head was a million miles away from what you were saying!” At that he fixes Dean with a long, calculating look. “You got something else on your mind today? You feelin’ alright?”

Dean listened to his excuses go up in smoke and tried not to grimace. Okay, so, maybe things hadn’t been going as good as he thought and as for having things on his mind, well… Dean flushes, mind immediately jumping to the images of wind-swept dark hair and bright blue eyes that have been haunting him all morning. Alpha Castiel Novak. While Dean only met him for ten minutes tops, he can’t deny that the alpha has been on his mind since. It’s a strange sensation; Dean could swear that there was a connection between them despite the fact they’d just met one another today. It was something Dean wanted to explore further— “Are you even listening to me?” Bobby broke into Dean’s internal monologuing, leaving him blinking at the older alpha owlishly.

“Sorry Bobby,” he muttered, feeling his face flame in embarrassment at daydreaming about Castiel in front of the man who was essentially his boss. “I’m listening.”

“You sure you’re okay, Dean?” Bobby frowned at him as he reached up to remove his baseball cap. “You haven’t had your head in the game all morning.” He rubbed a hand through his hair then down his face before settling the cap back on his head again. “Maybe you should head out early today. We can work around ya.”

Bobby was offering him a way out, Dean knew, and part of him was tempted to grab it with both hands and run for it. Benny wouldn’t mind coming back to pick him up, and he knew neither Sam nor the rest of the crew would give him shit for heading out early considering the hell he’d just suffered through the past week. It was just…Dean wanted to see Castiel. It was stupid, and in a way childish, but he couldn’t get the alpha out of his mind and going home early wasn’t going to help with that. Hell, considering the way he’d been brooding it was likely only to make it worse! So, steeling himself, and resigned to what a terrible idea this was, Dean plastered on his most convincing fake smile, and shook his head. “I’m okay Bobby,” he reassured the older man. “I just had a bit of trouble remembering my lines is all. I’ll try better next round, promise.”

Bobby squinted at him like he could see the word LIAR written on Dean’s forehead in all capital letters, but surprisingly, he didn’t call him on it. There would be little point, he knew, especially when the idjit seemed so determined to act like everything was fine. Things were pretty far from being ‘fine’ considering the boy looked like a scared rabbit about to bolt, but if he was determined to finish out the day who was Bobby to stand in his way? “Alright,” he said finally, nodding though he looked entirely unconvinced by Dean’s performance. “If you think you can keep your head on straight then let’s take it again from the top.”

It was a dismissal and a relief, and Dean wasted no time in turning tail and hurrying back to his mark. Sam gave him an inquiring look, one eyebrow practically disappearing into his shaggy hairline. Dean ignored him; the last thing he needed was the lecture that was sure to come from his little brother. He had this in the bag; he could handle going a few hours without thinking of Castiel, easy. Though he couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed over to the large clock that hung on the far wall… Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as in the bag as he thought. Suppressing a sigh, he pulled up his carefully controlled mask of Jensen and lifted his fake gun once again. He could do this, he could.

Six hours later proved Dean, did not in fact, have it in the bag.

Dean had tried, he really had, but despite his best efforts things had declined the rest of the day. Oh, he’d gotten a little better between his chat with Bobby and lunch, but after that? He might as well have taken the rest of the afternoon off for as little as his head had been in the game.

And it was all thanks to one Castiel Novak. The alpha had showed up on set after they’d returned from lunch and Dean had very nearly died on the spot. Castiel had been dressed in costume—a pair of sinfully tight black jeans and a faded AC/DC shirt. Combined with his artfully styled hair that still managed to stick out six ways to Sunday and Dean was practically drooling. It was terrible, and highly unprofessional, but staying in character after that was practically impossible. Dean found himself forgetting his lines, stumbling through what he could remember. It was like being a pup in his early acting days all over again which was horrible enough, but the worst thing was Castiel was watching him.

Every time Dean missed a line or stumbled or anything the alpha was right there, crowding up in his space to help. It would have been almost funny if not for the fact Castiel was the reason Dean was distracted in the first place. How he managed to get through the rest of the afternoon, Dean honestly didn’t know. As soon as Bobby called cut for the final time he was out of there like a shot, dashing across the lot to his trailer.

_ “Jesus  _ Winchester!” He scolded himself as he ran for it. “Get a grip on yourself!” This wasn’t like him, Dean knew. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of omega who fawned over the first alpha that came across his path. Even in the depths of his heat he didn’t react the way he had to Castiel, so what gave?

Dean wished he knew. He pondered on it as he reached his trailer and went inside. Once safely enclosed he sighed, letting his shoulders droop as the weight of the day caught up to him. He headed over to the sofa without a thought, dropped, and practically melted into the soft cushions. God, he was tired. And apparently more than a little screwed in the head considering all the Castiel nonsense that’d been going on all day. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” He groaned out loud, hoping foolishly for an answer that wouldn’t come.

It had to be the heightened hormones left from his heat, Dean rationalized. Yes, that  _ had  _ to be it. He’d heard of it happening before, that was why most omegas took an extra day or even two after their heat off work just to be sure they weren’t putting out any more enticing pheromones. Ooh god, had Dean been doing that to Castiel? His face flamed, embarrassment crashing over him like a tidal wave. They all wore scent blockers while on the set, but it was possible that they hadn’t been enough. Ugh. Dean groaned again and brought a hand up to scrub at his eyes irritably. It’d been a long fuckin’ day and sitting here dwelling on whether or not he’d accidently doused Castiel Novak wasn’t helping anything.

Still, it took ten more minutes before Dean found the necessary energy to sit up on the couch properly, and a good five more after that to push his way up to standing. Moving to the bathroom, he was in the middle of splashing water on his face when he heard a knock at the trailer door. Dean sighed, raising his head just enough to squint through the water dripping off his face at the clock sitting on the counter. Huh. It took longer than he thought it would be for someone to come wanting to talk. It was inevitable considering the day he’d had, though Dean wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated by a certain moose of a little brother, so he stayed where he was. If he was quiet enough maybe Sam would just go away and leave him alone.

Of course, it didn’t happen. A second knock came, and then when Dean didn’t move, a third, and then a fourth. By the time the fifth and sixth knock came Dean was outright glaring at the door as if it had somehow failed him (it had by not vanishing his brother) and wished he’d found someplace else to hide. Sadly, if the continued knocking was any indication, Sam wasn’t going to take Dean’s silence for an answer. As much as Dean didn’t want to, he knew it was better to open the door or else bare witness to Sam bodily breaking it down (something he’d done before much to Dean’s mortification).

“Okay, okay!” Dean grumbled, reaching for a towel to hastily dry his face before he stopped the short way over to the door. “This had better be good Samantha or else I’m—” Whatever else he was, the rest of the words died in Dean’s throat as he found himself looking down not at his brother but at Castiel Novak himself.

“Um, is this a bad time?” Castiel asked, hesitance wrote into every line of his face as he peered up at Dean with those overly blue eyes. Like Dean he was still in his costume, and Dean swallowed hard against the sudden rush of hormones that flooded through him.  _ Christ on a cracker _ ! He thought frantically, mind practically whiting out in the face of the alpha. “I—uhh—no?” Dean finally stammered out as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.  _ Smooth Winchester! Real smooth! _

“—Are you sure?” Castiel frowned at him, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “I can come back another time if now isn’t good. I…just wanted to check if you were all right. You left in quite a hurry and I thought perhaps you’d taken ill.”

He sounded so earnest about it that Dean wanted to melt through the floor of his trailer despite feeling like his body was going to catch on fire just from how hot the guy was. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, “No, no. Now’s a good of time as any.” Dean said, proud that he managed to string a sentence together. “Do you...want to come in?” He didn’t know about Castiel but sitting down suddenly sounded like the best thing ever considering he felt jittery enough that he was ready to fall.

Castiel hesitated a moment, glancing between Dean and the open door of his trailer behind him. “If you’re sure,” He said slowly, like he was the one who wasn’t sure. He bit down on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth.

Castiel Novak was going to be the death of him, Dean thought, trying and failing not to stare. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so freaking cute and so hot at the same time before. He fumbled as he stepped backward to allow the alpha room to get through the door and covered it up with a hasty laugh. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. I mean I’m sure….” Aware that he was rambling, Dean clamped his mouth shut and turned towards the small kitchen area. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Dean pulled open his refrigerator with a little more force than necessary and ducked his head behind the door to regroup. There wasn’t much left in there after being gone for over a week but there were several bottles of water near the back that would have to do.  _ So lame _ , he thought, licking suddenly dry lips as he thought longingly of the few bottles of beer that were in his fridge at home. Behind him there was a thump followed by the shuffle of feet as Castiel entered the trailer. Dean took a moment to close his eyes, sending up a quick prayer to not blow things before they could even get started. Prayer sent, he popped open his eyes and straightened up, aiming a smile over the door at his guest.

To Dean’s disappointment Castiel wasn’t paying a lick of attention to the omega. He stood just inside the closed door, but his eyes were roaming over the interior of the trailer, assessing. Dean felt himself flushing under the alpha’s concentrated gaze, despite it not being aimed at him. While his and Sam’s trailers were larger than the one for the guest stars, neither were anything to write home about. Really, if one got down to it the only things that set it apart from your average RV was the larger than normal bathroom and bedroom. Though neither of those were things to brag about when the object of your undivided attention was standing there looking the place over, so Dean forced himself to keep quiet and wait.

He didn’t have to worry about it for long. Castiel completed his silent searching circuit with his gaze coming to rest on Dean himself. The alpha smiled, a soft pleased thing that made butterflies flutter in Dean’s stomach at the mere sight of it. “No thank you,” He declined, the smile fading a bit as he shook his head belatedly at Dean’s offer. “I wasn’t meaning to stay long. I just wanted to check and see if you were okay.”

Dean frowned; the heavy smell of disappointment filling the space despite himself. Fuck, how’d he screw things up already? They’d barely said two words to one another! “I-I’m fine.” He lied, proud of the way his voice didn’t waver like he felt it would. This wasn’t the way he thought things would go, not at all. “I was just tired is all…” He mumbled, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. A laity of curse words ran through his head but none seemed to fit. He’d thought things had been going well! The alpha was standing there in his trailer for goodness sake!!

Castiel nodded, seeming unperturbed by Dean’s discomfort. “You, uh, look well.” He remarked somewhat awkwardly, and that was just the icing on the proverbial cake. “Perhaps some rest will help you.” He tacked on, already taking a step or two back towards the door.

Shit. Shit.  _ SHIT! DO SOMETHING!!! _ Dean’s mind screamed as he watched Castiel make his retreat. It was now or never, and really, what did he have to lose here? He licked his lips and summoned up something that could have been courage before blurting: “Do you want to go get a drink with me?!” The words came out in a loud rush that had Dean immediately cringing but at least he’d done it. The ball was now in Castiel’s court.

The alpha blinked and him and then blinked again for good measure. Confusion and some emotion Dean couldn’t identity flitted across his face in rapid succession before he finally dipped his head in a parody of a bow. “I’d love to get a drink with you.” He said, his smile blooming once more. “Shall we say eight? I can swing by and pick you up.”

Wait. What? Seriously?? Dean had braced himself for disappointment and now he found himself blinking in delicious confusion because had Castiel said yes? Happiness bloomed in his scent, covering the remaining stench of disappointment. “Yes!” He enthused, unable to stop himself from acting like a young pup that’d just gotten asked on their first date. “Ah,” he coughed, trying in vain to tamper down his scent. “Eight would be fine.”

Castiel smirked at him knowingly and had even leaned forward to take a deeper breath of Dean’s floral scent. A look of pleasure crossed his face as his eyes fluttered shut. His savoring only lasted a moment before he was opening his eyes once more, but the look he gave Dean afterwards was purely satisfied. “I’ll see you then.” He said, and without waiting for a reply he turned and let himself out of the trailer.

Dean’s composure lasted all of thirty seconds…the time it took for the trailer door to latch behind the alpha before he burst out into total relieved laughter. Holy shit! He couldn’t believe it! He managed to score a date with Castiel Novak! He fist pumped the air in joy, letting out a whoop. Dean wanted to shout from the rooftops—but first a shower was most definitely needed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork in this chapter is by Sissyray84

“Have you ever been to The Blue Parrot?” Castiel asked as Dean settled into the passenger seat of Castiel’s large Continental. For all that it was Dean’s idea to go out for a drink it’d been Castiel who had insisted upon driving. The guy is certainly a little strange (especially given that his car is a godawful gold toned Lincoln Continental Mark V) but Dean ain’t complaining. Why would he? Castiel’s the hottest alpha Dean’s ever laid eyes on and the novelty that he wants to go out with Dean hasn’t been lost. Hell, Dean’s fairly sure it never _will _be if he gets a say in it! Just thinking about Castiel wanting him makes him all hot and bothered to the point where Dean can hardly remember his own name let alone—

— “Dean?” Castiel’s deep rumble breaks into his thoughts suddenly leaving the omega blinking in surprise. Whoops! There he went again, losing his damned mind all because of Castiel… Dean coughed feeling the tell-tale flush of embarrassment spreading hot across his face and neck. He’s suddenly grateful that they chose to wait until later to go because the dim light as the sun fades away is now working in his favor.

“Yeah? I mean no. I-I mean I haven’t been there before…” Dean stumbled out, utterly flummoxed. _Smooth Winchester! Reeeeeeeeeal smooth! _His inner voice nagged at him as he groaned and proceeded to bury his face in his hands. See, this was another reason why he didn’t date—it made him act like a damned idiot! “Do—do they have good drinks there?” He mumbled from behind his hand-shield. God, he hoped so! With the way things were going so far Dean was sure he was going to need at least half a dozen just to survive the night!

To Dean’s profound relief Castiel didn’t seem put off by Dean’s stumbling and stammering and general stupidity. Glancing away from the road, he fixed Dean with a brief worried look before resuming watching where he was going. “It’s a bar…” He said slowly, and Dean didn’t need to be able to see it to hear the frown in the alpha’s words. “and it’s a rather popular nightclub as well which was why I proposed we leave so late. I’m not sure what else would be open this time of evening but we can go somewhere else if you’d like?”

A bar in a nightclub? Dean blinked, lifting his head slightly as he considered it. Neither one was really his type of thing—he was more of a cheap whiskey in a dive bar or a six pack at home kinda guy—but oh, he was tempted. How could he not be? Castiel wasn’t the full reason for it either, though Dean would be lying if he said the alpha wasn’t a big part of it.

Dean had thought about it all day but he still couldn’t put into words the undeniable pull he felt towards Castiel. To him it felt like there was a rope, or even some kind of chain, linking them together, that Dean found impossible to ignore. He had wondered most of the day if Castiel felt it as well but he didn’t have the nerve to bring it up to the alpha. _Hey, I know this is crazy since we just met ‘an all but I feel like there’s something bringing us together! _Yeah, no. It was bad enough that Dean felt like this, he didn’t need the anxiety of a possible rejection if he managed to explain it only to find out that Castiel didn’t feel the same. “Have you ever been before? To the Blue Parrot?”

“Probably more than I should!” Castiel admitted with a grin. “It’s quite popular; I’m rather surprised that you’ve never been there!” He glanced away from the road over at Dean considering. “The beer glazed meatballs are phenomenal. They’re the best in the state from what I’ve heard.”

“Beer glazed meatballs?” Dean parroted, perking up in interest. The surest way to get him to go along with anything was to involve food. Dean had always loved to eat even from when he was a young pup and he loved finding new things to try. “Sounds like a good plan to me!” Suddenly the thought of going to a bar/club sounded way more appealing. 

Eyes fully back on the road, Castiel smirked. He may have cheated a bit since he’d asked Sam’s opinion earlier on what an appropriate date would be to have with Dean. He was glad to see the younger Winchester had given him sound advice regarding his brother’s love of food. Castiel had been skeptical at best since most omegas didn’t like to eat as much as Sam had assured him Dean did. “Shall we then?” He asked, wanting to be absolutely sure before they went through the hassle of getting into the building. Privately, he was pleased that Dean was on-board with his club idea even if it had taken some creative bribing to get him there. He wouldn’t have said anything if Dean had been fully against it, of course, but Castiel preferred when things went according to his plans.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean said when they pulled up outside of the club. From the outside the place wasn’t much to look at: the building was a wooden two storied place with faded, peeling blue paint with equally peeling white trim. Combined with the large unpainted privacy fence that surrounded the place and was tall enough it’d even surpass Dean’s moose of a brother’s 6’4” frame, and the whole place looked more like a rundown B&B than a popular hangout. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He repeated, eyes glued to the window, because, seriously? The fact that there was a clear line snaking out from behind the fence didn’t make him feel any better about it either.

Castiel huffed as he maneuvers past the crowd to reach the parking lot in the back. “It’s much better on the inside, I promise.” He says, distracted with finding a parking space. “Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’? It’s basically the same thing. Ah!” There was an empty spot towards the back of the lot.

“I hope so,” Dean muttered but he let it drop. He wanted to have a good time tonight and he was determined that nothing was going to stand in his way of it! Still, he couldn’t help but continue to stare up at the building as they parked and got out of the car. “How did you find this place anyway?” He asked as they headed across the lot to where the line was. Going by the outside of the place alone it didn’t scream ‘party over here!’, at least not in Dean’s opinion.

“A good friend recommended it.” Castiel replied distractedly as he led them past the line of people waiting to get in. “She used to work here back then.” He sounded fond, his voice wistful. “You would have liked her, she was quite the spitfire back in those days!”

“Spitfire eh? Sounds like my kinda gal!” Dean chuckled as he followed along behind Castiel. He didn’t miss the fondness of Castiel’s tone and it made him curious about what this friend of his was like, aside from being obviously feisty. He wouldn’t classify himself as jealous but there was a twinge of something there. ”Where are we going?”

“Just watch.” Castiel told him without looking back. He wound his way through the crowd like an expert and didn’t seem to see, or possibly care about the looks he and Dean were getting from the people in line. He kept going until he reached the doors where a tall well-built man was standing in front of the doors. “Hello Gadreel.” He greeted the man even as he reached back to grab ahold of Dean. “I brought a friend with me tonight.”

Well this was awkward, to say the least. Dean frowned as Castiel hauled him forward so Gadreel could eye him over from head to toe. It was strangely intimate, making him squirm but Dean wisely kept his mouth shut. What would he say anyway? Castiel obviously knew the guy and since he hadn’t objected to them cutting in line Dean wasn’t willing to rock the boat. 

After a moment Gadreel nodded, apparently satisfied. “Looks good.” He said to Castiel, his voice giving nothing away with it’s quiet calmness. He turned back to the doors behind him and pushed the closest one open and ushered them inside. “Have a fun time.”

The inside of the club is a riot of colors and sounds. There are people everywhere and everything is bathed in bright blue and orange and pink lights. It's also blaring out heavy pop music at a level Dean would normally attribute to a rock concert. It's no wonder then that Dean finds himself hopelessly lost just a few steps inside. If it wasn't for the way Castiel's hand was still clamped on his arm he was sure he'd have been swept away from it all. As it is he offered up no resistance as Castiel leads him through the throng to the seating area just off the edge of the dance area.

The tables are round with white table clothes that glow eerily in the odd wash of lights but Dean hardly cares as he sinks into one of the four chairs at a table gratefully. "Busy in here!" He remarks, unsure of how to feel about all this. It's certainly not what he had been expecting despite him not knowing what to expect in the first place.

"Oh yes." Castiel remains standing at his side, his hand still holding onto Dean's arm. He pulled his arm closer and began rubbing careful calming circles over the back of Dean’s hand. "You're tense," he pointed out like Dean didn't know. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

Dean snorted, the sound covered up by the swell of noise around them. "I'm good Cas. Just give me a minute to adjust, alright?" He hopes he doesn't come off as whiney, he really will be fine in a minute or two.

“How about I go get us a drink? They have a highly recommended blonde ale here that I believe you’ll enjoy.” Castiel offered though he looked hesitant like he was ready to leave if Dean mentioned wanting to do so. “I can order our food as well. Did you still want to try the meatballs?”

“Sounds good,” Dean said. A drink right about now sounded like a _fabulous _idea in his opinion. If nothing else it would hopefully go a long way towards making him chill the fuck out so he could relax and enjoy this. “And yeah. The meatballs sound awesome!”

“Okay--I’ll be right back!” Castiel said with a grin, and pulled away. It didn’t take long for him to be swallowed up in the crowd as he headed towards the bar. Dean watched him go for as long as he could, and once he was out of sight he dropped his head down into his hands. “Oh god, you gotta get it together Winchester!” He groaned out loud to himself. “Everything is going well. It’s all going to be okay!” At least he hoped it would be. Hopefully some liquid courage would help things go smoother. Dean didn’t know about Castiel but he was vested in the night going well...

“I don’t like it.” Sam declared the next day before Dean even managed to get all the way out of the car. “I can’t believe you actually went out with him!” For someone who was so tall it was impressive how much he could act like a young pup but Sam was managing to pull it off nicely. He pouted, fixing Dean with his best puppy dog look. “Well? How’d it go?”

“What the? Sam!” Dean huffed as he pushed his way out of the car, and pushed his brother back at the same time. “What are you, two? I thought you grew out of the inquisition stage!” He glared, not even bothering to look back as he waved Benny off. The less witnesses to this, probably the better. Once he was sure Benny was pulling away he wasted no time in rounding on his brother. “What’s your problem? I thought you liked Castiel! Sure acted like it yesterday when you spent all day following him around!”

Sam had the grace to look sheepish but he didn’t back down from his brother’s rising fury. “I do like him!” He retorted, “But you gotta admit there’s something weird going on here! I mean, when’s the last time you went out with anyone? Especially a coworker?” Sam had a point and he knew it--he couldn’t even remember the last time Dean had went on a date, let alone out for a drink with a coworker.

“I didn’t realize it was any of your business!” Dean shot back as he crossed his arms. His hands were balled into fists but he didn’t start swinging--at least not yet. “The last I checked I didn’t need to get your approval on who I see or go out with!” It stung knowing that Sam was right but Dean would be damned before he admitted it, especially out loud to Sam himself!

Sam deflated like someone had let air out of a balloon. “I’m not saying it’s any of my business,” he started, well aware he was treading a fine line that he wasn’t aware he had crossed until it was too late. “I just don’t want to see you hurt is all.” Considering how picky his brother was at the best of times Sam could easily picture that happening.

Watching Sam capitulate so easily made some of the tension ease in Dean’s shoulders. He didn’t want to fight with Sam--he wasn’t John, and therefore wasn’t the proverbial enemy. “I know,” He sighed, shoulders lowering a fraction. “It _is _weird.” He admitted after a beat. “I don’t know man, there’s just something about Cas that I can’t get out of my head!” He meant that quite literally since he’d been thinking about the alpha nearly non-stop since he’d woken up this morning. “We had a good time last night.” That wasn’t even a lie--while things had started off a tad rocky the night had gone surprisingly well. Dean figured some of that had to do with the blonde ale Castiel kept supplying him with as well as the awesome food. Dean wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d actually had a dream about those meatballs, they’d been that damned good!

“Just--just be careful, alright?” Sam pleaded, watching Dean carefully. He wasn’t truly satisfied by Dean’s responses but he was willing to let it lay for now for the sake of peace. There was just something about Castiel that he couldn’t quite put his finger on even after spending a whole day around the guy. “And you know you can come to me if you need too.” He knew he was coming on strong about it but after watching some of the things Dean had gone through with their father growing up he wanted to be supportive. 

“I will.” Dean promised, mustering up a smile. He didn’t see his brother’s cause for concern since he and Castiel had a great time last night, but he was willing to roll with it. Sam certainly wasn’t John and a supportive (and overbearing at times) brother was a hell of a lot better than a dad who screamed at him. “I know,” he smirked, “and I’ll be happy to provide you with all the sordid details!” He and Castiel hadn’t gotten that far though Dean wasn’t complaining. As much as the alpha turned his crank, he was okay with taking things slow, especially as Sam kept reminding him, it had been a while.

“Oh gross!” Sam recoiled, horror wrote into every line of his face. “I do not need to hear about your sex life dude!” In true little brother fashion he began making gagging noises. There were just some things that weren’t meant to be shared between brothers! “You’re such a jerk Dean!”

Dean cackled; his work was done here! He reached out, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “Then don’t be a little bitch Samantha!” He laughed, pulling back before he could get decked. “C’mon, we better get a move on or Bobby’s gonna have our heads!” The old man was probably having a fit already even though they weren’t technically late...yet.

Sam swung a punch though thanks to Dean’s quick reflexes he just barely grazed his brother’s shoulder. “I’m telling him it’s all your fault!” Sam declared before he was suddenly taking off across the lot at high speed. Unlike his brother he had never been late and he didn’t intend to start now!

“He won’t believe you!” Dean shouted to his brother’s retreating form. Leave it to Sam to cross the distance in no time flat...the man really was part moose! Shaking his head, Dean followed. Bobby wouldn’t be happy, he knew, but oh well. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been late and probably wouldn’t be the last!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Please heed the tags! This chapter is where things start going south. Potential triggers for this chapter include abuse, descriptions of abuse, gaslighting, and violence.

** Monday: **

"You sure you're okay there, brother?" Benny asked as he worriedly hovered while Dean slowly sank down into the comfortable leather of the SVU's backseat. A small whimper escaped him as he settled; Dean hadn't wanted to look but he was about ninety percent sure his ass was one giant bruise after the way Cas had smacked it last night. He’d always enjoyed some pain with his sex, but this was, frankly, ridiculous. He hadn’t felt this bad after Cas had fucked him senseless after the beating last night but he was sure making up for lost time this morning!

"I'm fine." He grit out instead of moaning pathetically like he wanted to. “Guess I’m just not used to getting it every night.” He joked weakly as he gingerly shifted into a more comfortable position, not that there was any. He didn’t remember exactly what Cas had done--something Dean fully blamed on the bottles of imported honey brown ale Cas had generously supplied--but it must’a been a doozy. He had thought after a few weeks he’d be used to it--the sex, not the beer--but he was wrong. Dean can’t complain, though. Cas may put him through the paces, sure, but Dean’s not so low-key obsession with the alpha hasn’t dimmed at all. Even after all this time Dean still doesn’t know what kind of pull Cas has on him but he eagerly keeps going back for more,

“You look like hammered crap, chief.” Benny rumbled, his naturally calming scent overshot with concern as he continued to watch Dean. “Hard to believe a night with an alpha caused all this.” He wasn’t judging but he was concerned. He had seen enough abusive alphas in his time to recognize the early warning signs. 

“Thanks.” Dean snorted though his heart wasn’t in it to retort Benny’s claim. All hurting aside, he was tired. He was vaguely sure he had passed out somewhere around 1:00 a.m. though it hadn’t been a peaceful slumber. He had a hazy notion of tossing and turning but all that really stuck out were the weird dreams he’d had. Castiel had featured prominently in most of them, and while the details had slipped out of Dean’s head as soon as he’d woken he was left feeling unsettled. Biting back a yawn he tried, and failed, to shoot Benny a smile. “I think I’ll nap on the way there today.” It was unusual considering Dean’s normal ride consisted of inhaling caffeine like he’d die without it, but he_ was_ tired. A nap would probably do him good plus it got him out of answering questions he really didn’t want too…

** Wednesday: **

“Dean! Are you okay?! What the hell happened!?” Sam squawked, horrified. He stood frozen with one hand still poised where he had been knocking on Dean’s door. When his brother hadn’t showed up for work he had expected to find him in bed sick...not like this! Dean was sweating and pale, dressed only in a pair of faded plaid boxers and a ratty gray bathrobe. While that was mildly alarming (because really, Sam didn’t want to see his brother in boxers thank you) the large purplish bruise stretching across Dean’s torso was horrifying. The matching purple black eye was just icing on the cake of ‘what the actual fuck’ running through Sam’s head.

Dean groaned to himself, leaving heavily on his living room doorway for support. One hand was carefully wrapped around his ribs while the other was clutched white-knuckled on the doorframe. _Great, just great!_ He thought, barely repressing the urge to roll his eyes at Sam’s overly loud hysterics. “Will you tone it down some?” He gripped, shooting his brother a witheringly glare. “I tripped coming down the stairs, do you really need to broadcast it to the entire neighborhood?” 

“You--are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?!” Sam yelped, clearly not buying it and edging towards being pissed. “You look like you’ve got broken ribs and an impressive shiner and you want me to believe you ‘fell down the stairs’?” His voice rose in his hysteria. He looked Dean over with eyes wide as dinner plates. “What really happened?”

Dean groaned again, louder. Leave it to Sam to keep hounding when all Dean wanted him to do was drop it. He fixed his brother with the best glare he could considering he was only working with one usable eye and growled: “Leave it Sam!” He loved his brother, he truly did, but damn if he couldn’t be annoying as hell sometimes! “I’m fine.” Or, well he would be once the painkillers he took a while back kicked in. Dean had been trying to get as comfortable as possible while he waited, or he had been until Sam had come knocking down his door. Now here he was at ass 'o'clock in the morning trying to calm down a raging giant! “I’m fine!” He repeated, louder, just in case Sam didn’t get it the first time around.

“I--you--the fuck!” Sam spluttered, his face turning red in part to his rising anger. He couldn’t believe this! His brother was quite obviously injured, and he was lying to him to boot! “You’re impossible!” He finally huffed, pissed. “You aren’t fine! You can’t even stand up straight!”

Dean bristled in response to Sam’s growing anger. The jab about not being able to stand up stung and what was worse, Sam was right. It’d been hell to get from his couch to here and now the only thing that was holding him up was the door frame. It was humiliating but Dean didn’t have a leg to stand on to counter the accusation with. “It looks worse than it is.” He placated, switching tracks. “It’s just some bruising…” And quite possibly a broken rib or two but Sam didn't really need to know that. 

Sam frowned. He didn’t buy what Dean was selling but if past experience had taught him anything, it was that he wasn’t going to win against his brother. Dean could out-stubborn Sam, which was quite the feat, and so he had learned when to just drop things. “Fine.” He sighed grudgingly. “Do you need help getting back inside?”

Dean watched his brother warily. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when Sam backed down...only to wince when the movement made hurt bloom in his chest. His anger bled away as quick as it’d come leaving him feeling wrung out and tired. “I’d appreciate it.” 

** Saturday: **

Sam was going to _kill_ him! Dean thought, dismayed, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He looked like he’d went through a prize fight and lost--his jaw was black and blue and his nose was definitely crooked from where he’d gotten clocked across the face. He closed his eyes, foolishly hoping the sight would go away. Alas, when he opened them the bruises were still there. It was going to be next to impossible to hide, and worse yet, Dean had no reasonable explanation on hand. 

He wanted to groan or whine or even possibly yell but Dean didn’t dare. Cautiously he turned enough to see around the semi-open door that led into the bathroom and let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. Castiel was still sound asleep in his bed, right where Dean had left him a few moments prior. He was stupidly grateful he hadn’t woken the alpha. Considering he had him to thank for the way his face now looked Dean didn’t want to see what Castiel would do when angered. 

_I’m sure I’d deserve it like I deserved this… _He thought glumly, watching the way his reflection frowned at him. Today, or yesterday rather since it was past midnight, made their third week anniversary. Dean had thought it was an accomplishment worth celebrating and had gone all out in making dinner for the two of them. It’d been perfect; butternut squash ravioli in a buttery herb sauce made from scratch paired with a Viognier wine. Dean had even gone all out in decorating the table with the fancy plates and silverware Ruby had gotten him for Christmas one year. It’d been the most effort Dean had ever put into a dinner that wasn’t holiday-related and he’d thought everything had turned out well. 

Castiel, unfortunately, hadn’t shared in Dean’s opinion. Whereas Dean had went the extra mile in dressing in some of his fancier clothes the alpha had showed up in a pair of ripped jeans and a ratty Metallica shirt that had seen better decades. Things had quickly spiraled down from there as the man had wasted no time in deriding everything from Dean’s clothes down to the silverware. Even the food hadn’t been good enough--even now Dean cringed at the memory of seeing Castiel throw his bowl of ravioli across the dining room. “This tastes like dog food!” The alpha had ranted, his chest heaving as he rounded on Dean. “You’re trying to poison me!”

Dean averted his eyes from the mirror, not wanting to see his face as he recalled what had come next. It had been like something straight out of those omega abuse movies they made pups watch in school. Castiel’s eyes had flashed alpha red and before Dean could react he had lunged across the table at him. From there things had gotten foggy though Dean was certain he had hit his head on the table when Castiel knocked him and his chair over. The alpha had wielded fists and slurs with accuracy and Dean had been trapped. He shuddered, fingers coming up to gently probe the line of bruises decorating his jaw. _How could I have been so stupid? _He wondered, his gaze traveling back to the mirror. _I just wanted to do something nice but I had to go fuck it up like I fuck up everything else! _

He could feel the tell-tale burn of tears building behind his eyes and he blinked furiously, not wanting them to fall. _Nut up Winchester! What do you think he’s going to do if he comes and sees you acting like a sniveling omega?! _Dean stiffened at the thought, his heart suddenly leaping up into his throat. Suddenly terrified that he had done something wrong he turned to look back through the crack into the bedroom. Castiel was still in bed, thankfully, but Dean’s hackles were still raised. It hadn’t taken long for the alpha to go off last night and the last thing he needed was a repeat of that. Sam was already going to have his head as it was once he caught sight of Dean’s face, and so would his care team. The makeup artists were more used to putting fake bruises on him rather than trying to cover one's up. God, he hoped they had good concealer or whatever the hell it was called.

A sob ripped through him out of nowhere causing Dean to slap both hands over his mouth. _Oh god! _He thought, terrified. His eyes didn’t move from the doorway as he watched the sleeping alpha with trepidation. He didn’t know what to do. Should he leave the bathroom and try to go back to bed? Should he just stay where he was? Should he go get a start on cleaning up the mess from last night? His heart thundered painfully in his chest as he worried. Every possible scenario could end with Castiel’s rage and for the life of him Dean didn’t know what the best course of action was. For a time he didn’t do anything beyond stare. He was frozen; a naked trembling statue that literally wavered under the weight of his decision. _Should I stay or should I go? _He thought hysterically. 

He was getting nowhere and finally he simply chose. Cleaning up the mess from the night before seemed to be the best course of action if only because Dean couldn’t imagine Cas being pleased if it wasn’t. Decision made, he didn’t give himself time to think about it. As quietly as he could he slipped from the bathroom into the bedroom. Eyes locked on the still-sleeping alpha he edged his way towards the door, not bothering to grab clothes as he went. What was the point when he would just be getting them dirty? And besides it was his own damn house so if he wanted to walk around naked he could. With one last glance at Castiel he slipped through the door and out into the hallway.

_I can fix this! _He promised himself as he made his way to the kitchen. _All I have to do is be a better omega. I can do that, no problem! _He certainly hoped so at least. Hopefully Castiel would take the cleanup as a sign of contrition and would forgive him….


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter included non-con and rape! Also includes implied watersports and panic attacks. 
> 
> Please scroll to the end notes for a brief description of what happens in the chapter if you'd rather skip over it.

“Cas, c’mon man.” Dean says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It's a Wednesday night and of all the places to be they’re out at the club for the umpteenth time. “We gotta work in the morning!” Dean doesn’t mean to come across as whiney, but he’s tired, and more than a little drunk, and needs to piss like yesterday. Why he agreed to coming here, Dean has no idea.

It had seemed like a good idea earlier when Cas was rutting up against him in the shower as they got ready but now that he’s had a few hours of exposure, Dean’s over it. Now he just wants to piss, go home, and go to bed. The only problem with that is Cas doesn’t seem to share his sentiments…if the hand clamped down on his right thigh is any indication. Dean hadn’t known Cas was such a possessive bastard but once the guy got a few drinks in him, well. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t get a bit of a thrill out of the way Castiel’s inner alpha seems to rear up wanting to keep the omega for himself. Now if he’d just listen to what Dean was saying….

_He hates these little games, he truly does;_ Dean thinks sometime later as he dodges his way across the crowded dance floor towards the back of the club. It’s Omega night and the damn place is packed to the hilt, something Dean wouldn’t normally mind except for the pressing fact that he needs to piss like a damned racehorse. Cas had been feeling ‘frisky’ tonight since they both managed to get the weekend off work—an occurrence Dean was still surprised at—and had insisted upon starting the weekend off right despite it being two days away.

That’d been all fine and dandy as far as Dean was concerned; he’d enjoyed the club every time they’ve come here but as one hour turned into two turned into three it was starting to get old. So was Cas’ tendency to get sloshed and flirt with every person that came within arm length, be they alpha, omega, or beta. If that wasn’t irking enough the fact that Castiel had kept one hand clamped down on Dean’s thigh like he was a prize to be potentially stolen away was just icing on the cake. It had taken a good hour just for Dean to convince the alpha that he needed to piss, and no he couldn’t wait any longer.

Hence his current predicament: rushing through the throng of people as fast as he can, which considering the crowd isn’t quite as fast as he’d like to be. Dean winces and hunches down, his hands curling into impotent fists at his sides. He hasn’t needed to piss this desperately in a helluva long time and he fully blames Castiel and his non-stop drinks for being ready to pop like an overfull balloon.

He hits the back hall at a dead run, finally past the point of caring if anyone sees, and judges him, cause fuck them. He bursts through the men’s room door, hands already fumbling with his zipper only to come to an ungraceful skidding halt just inside the doors. “The fuck?” He mumbles, far too drunk and desperate to fully process what he’s seeing, or rather_ not_ seeing.

Instead of a normal restroom with a row of urinals and stalls there’s a couch and a line of sinks and, “what the actual fuck?” Dean repeats, bewildered. He knew the club was swanky, but this is some next level shit right here: the room he’s in appears to be a lounge with a row of sinks spanning the right side and a long black leather sofa situated on the left. _Huh_, he thinks, feeling caught off guard and not liking it.

Dean's seriously considering the pros and cons of pissing in one of the sinks when it finally descends through his whiskey-addled brain that there’s three doors set into the back wall. Each one is black, and nearly blends in with the décor which is how he missed them in the first place, but that isn’t what distracts Dean. No, the signs upon each door labeled Alpha, Beta, Omega, does that. It’s a bit of a shock to see; Dean’s sure he could count on one hand the number of public restrooms he’s seen divided by sub-gender but honestly at this point he couldn’t care less. He’d happily piss in a bucket in full view of all the alpha’s if he could be rid of the painful pressure.

He wastes no time in crossing towards the Omega marked door. Thankfully it’s unlocked, and he’s already unzipping and pulling himself out as he goes, beelining straight for the row of urinals along the wall. The relief is ecstasy and he can’t help closing his eyes as a groan bubbles up from his throat.

Unfortunately, Dean’s moment of euphoria is short lived; though by the time the sound of a door opening and closing reaches him it’s already too late. The pungent smell of aroused alpha is like a kick in the chest, heavy and cloying over the top of the scent of piss and Dean gags on it, eyes flying open in alarm. His hackles raise, body tensing to fight-or-flight yet there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. He’s mid-stream and caught with his pants down, literally.

“Look at you! So gorgeous!” A familiar gravelly voice purrs from the vicinity of the doorway causing goosebumps to rise and Dean’s heart to sink because he knows that voice: “Cas.” He chokes through a throat that’s suddenly gone bone-dry. While Dean never considered himself a prude, he’s mighty uncomfortable; his shoulders have come up around his ears and his back is a hard line of tension where he’s automatically curled forward.

What his alpha is doing here, Dean doesn’t know. It wouldn’t be a wild guess to assume the man needs to piss himself considering the amount of booze he’s been knocking back all night, but this isn’t right. A place swanky enough to have sub gendered restrooms means business and Dean for one doesn’t want to find out what would happen should anyone come along to find Cas in a room clearly marked for omegas. “What are you doing here?” Dean finally gets out, proud that his voice doesn’t crack and betray the plethora of emotions running through his head.

“Look at you,” Cas slurs, obviously drunk as he slides in closer. “All needy and perfect.” His hands reach out, running slowly up and down Dean’s flank, nimble fingers teasing at the hem of his shirt. “Just waiting for me, weren’t you?” The alpha breathes, the scent of whiskey practically coming out of every pore as he leans close enough for his breath to tickle the back of Dean’s neck.

Below him Dean yelps and jerks away as much as he can, which isn’t nearly far enough. A shudder rips through him; he’s revolted. Cas is clearly drunk, no big surprise there, but he doesn’t want the alpha touching him. Not here. Not like this. While it’s not like this is the first time Cas has seen his cock, Dean feels exposed in a way he’s never felt before; perverse and bone deep.

“I locked the door.” Castiel informs him, and just like that what little hope Dean had in someone coming in and finding them dies. He doesn’t know what to do. For all the problems that come with being an omega, especially a male one, he’s never found himself in this predicament before. His scent spikes sharply in fear, mixing with the rank smell of piss and the overpowering scent of alpha in the air to create noxious fumes. Partially against his will Dean feels his body tense and clench and suddenly peeing is the furthest thing from his mind as he tries to hunch in to make himself a smaller target.

Sadly, it doesn’t help. Castiel’s hands shoot out and become two vices clamping onto Dean’s hips, restricting any further movement. Before Dean can protest, or wrap his mind around what’s happening here, he’s being bent forward at an awkward angle. “Cas!” He gasps as his face is shoved forward into the tiny space between the wall and the water pipes that connect to the urinal. “What the hell!?” Dean struggles but it’s futile; Castiel’s body has become a heavy weight behind him pinning him in place.

“Hush!” Castiel commands, his voice dropping into the deeper register of pure alpha dominance. It sends a shockwave shuddering through Dean’s still-struggling frame, but it does the trick—his words die on his tongue.

_Fucking biology! _Dean thinks harshly, not at all cowed despite Cas stealing his voice with his little trick. It’ll wear off soon enough and then Dean will _really _have things to say. Until then he continues the struggle; his hands scrabbling for purchase on the urinal, on the wall, or any fucking thing he can use to push back with but there’s nothing. With the way he’s awkwardly bent and Castiel’s weight an unmovable force behind him there’s simply nowhere to go until the alpha decides to release him. It takes surprisingly less time than Dean thinks it should to realize he should give up.

“Good boy!” Cas purrs behind him, pleased. His body is a hot line where it’s pressing up against Dean’s and despite the layers of their jeans Dean can feel the hard ridge of his alpha’s cock straining against the denim. Dean whimpers, desperation and sudden fear chasing icy trails down his spine and into his belly. Every nerve is on high alert, fully aware of how helpless he is and the obvious nature of the position Castiel’s put him in. Behind him the alpha makes a pleased sound as he ruts up against Dean again and again.

Clarity kicks in sharp and crystal clear as glass and the horror of what’s about to happen sends Dean’s brain into a screaming panic. He freezes, heart jack-knifing behind his ribs even as bile creeps up his throat. No. Oh no. _This can’t be happening! _He thinks desperately as he listens to the jingle of Cas’ belt being undone. **_Why _**_is this happening!? _Dean wonders next; his panted breathes sounding loud and heavy in his ears. Sadly, there are no answers. There’s just the feel of his jeans and boxers being shoved further down his legs.

Then there’s no more time left. Not to think, nor plead, nor even breathe; between one breath Dean feels the tip of Castiel’s cock nudging at his hole and the next he’s ramming into him with what feels like all his might. It _hurts_, beyond words, beyond comprehension. Dean chokes on a scream, all rational thought gone except for: Why? Why now? What had he done to deserve this?

Pain floods his senses, drowning Dean in the agony as Cas continues to pound into him. His breath punches out of him with a broken sob, punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, and it’s like a damn somewhere within Dean cracks. He sobs, the sound broken as his heart and once started he can’t stop the tears from falling.

He cries and trembles, mind cast adrift and refusing to connect with the rest of his body. The air in the room is stifling, the heady combination of aroused alpha and frightened omega a bitter tang against Dean’s tongue. Castiel is everywhere; on him, _in _him, grunting harder and harder as he chases his pleasure at Dean’s expense. His stomach turns; horror and grief waging a battle for his soul as he closes his eyes and hopes for it to end.

It takes an eternity, Dean will recall later, but finally with a final loud grunt and a surge of hot wetness deep inside that he doesn’t want to think about, it’s over. Castiel collapses above him, a heavy human shaped blanket of satisfaction yet Dean is barely aware of it. He feels separated from everything—his body, the entire situation. It’s safer this way, he thinks dully, perhaps he can stay this way forever; hiding behind the haze of cotton whiteness that has risen out of nowhere….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A drunk Castiel corners Dean in the restroom of the club and rapes him. Dean has a panic attack and passes out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter deals with the immediate aftermath of Dean's rape and involves panic attacks

Dean wakes slowly, riding high on a wave of agony with no crest in sight. **Everything** hurts; from the crown of his head clear down to the soles of his feet. _What the hell happened?! _He thinks woozily, feeling punch-drunk and exhausted. He doesn’t remember a damn thing; hell, he’s not even 100% sure of where he is. The thought should be frightening, at least a little, but he can’t muster up the energy for it. Before he can start to parse together an answer to any of his questions, however, an unfamiliar voice speaks up from somewhere above him:

“Sir?” The voice inquired hesitantly, “Can you hear me?” It’s a calm voice, carefully kept neutral--probably a Beta by Dean’s estimate—and has an air of someone who’s been asking the same question over and over for a while, “Sir?”

“Mmmmm….” Dean moans, unable to force anything more substantial out. His throat and mouth are desert dry and ache like he’s been screaming nonstop for a while. Considering his current memory loss he has to wonder if there isn’t some truth to be had there. 

“Sir!” The voice comes again, though this time it’s giddy sounding which leaves Dean wondering what it’s so happy about. He’s hurting and he’s exhausted, neither of these things equate to happiness. “Can you open your eyes for me?” It presses like Dean isn’t trying his damndest to scowl in response, something he’s not sure he’s pulling off but doesn’t care anyway. 

“Mmmhmmm!” Dean moans, louder this time, though considering the noise is barely above a grunt it’s hardly impressive. He does try to open his eyes, however. It’s slow-going; he’s sure each eyelid is weighted down with a ten-ton weight. In the end he only manages a slit, and only gets a brief, blurry flash of too bright before slamming his eyes shut once more.

“That’s good!” The voice praises, which is nothing short of ridiculous, considering. “You’re doing so good!” Is he? Dean makes a noise that could possibly pass for a grunt, or maybe a hum if it was strangled first. It’s starting to scare him, the way this voice is speaking to him like he’s a pup, and he must wonder for the umpteenth time what the hell happened to bring him to wherever this is. Whatever happened must have been bad, he figures, starting to drift to where the pain isn’t so intense. The voice starts talking above him again, but Dean’s done listening. It comes and goes like waves lapping at the shore and Dean drifts off listening to the steady ebb and flow.

It feels like a blink of an eye passes—one moment Dean’s drifting in a not-quite-asleep haze and the next he’s blinking a shocking bright light out of his eyes and grumbling incoherently at whatever the source is.

“Sir?” The voice from earlier is back as well, and just as hesitant as before. “Can you hear us?” 

Us? There was more than one of them? Dean blinks hard, thankful when the light finally moves out of his field of vision and is surprised to find a young woman with dark hair and wide eyes staring at him like they’ve seen a ghost. “Blahg?” Dean garbles unintelligibly, closer but not quite there yet to forcing actual words out. 

Apparently, it’s good enough because the woman leans back out of his personal space and beams at him like he’s a kid who just said his first word. “There you are!” She exclaims softly, nearly bowling Dean over with her relieved scent.

She smells like mango and sunshine, Dean notices absently, though there’s a strange chemical undertone that makes his nose twitch. It all clicks in place when she stands, the black pants and white shirt with tie combo tipping Dean off to her being one of the club staff. “I’m Hannah,” She says, noticing the way he’s staring up at her, “I work here.” She taps gently on the gold-plated name tag attached to her shirt, leaning in enough that Dean can read it without strain: ‘The Blue Parrot: HANNAH, They/Them’

His gaze scans the tag and it’s like the words unlock something in his brain. “I…know…you…” He manages to get out; the words little more than a rasp forced through his bone-dry throat. As fucked up as the whole situation is, and he suspects it’s even worse than he’s visualizing, it’s somewhat comforting to realize he knows someone here with him.

Hannah beams at him, their mango sunshiny scent growing more pronounced at Dean’s words. “That’s right! I’ve seen you and your alpha here before.” They confirm with a relieved smile that feels a tad out of place considering the way Dean still hurts. “Is he here with you?”

Is Castiel here? Dean honestly doesn’t know. If not for Hannah and their name tag he wouldn’t have even known he was in the club, let alone there with Cas. Everything is a blur, and when he tries to think back his head throbs with a deep warning pain. He winces, an involuntary whimper leaving his lips. Outside his control he tenses, coiled and ready for a fight though he doesn’t understand why.

“Hannah.” A quiet commanding voice pipes up from across the room, breaking through the sudden tense atmosphere. “Give him time to gather his wits. The doctor should be here shortly.”

Slowly, worried at aggravating the pain even more, Dean turns his head enough to see a tall stern looking man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. It’s Gadreel, the club’s bouncer. Dean’s been here enough to recognize the alpha though what he’s doing here is just as much as a mystery as to why Dean’s here himself. “W—what happened?” He asks, wincing at the drag in his throat. He’s so thirsty.

Both Hannah and Gadreel blinked at him wordlessly, shocked into speechlessness. Dean eyes first Gadreel then Hannah, his nervousness increasing. Whatever it was, it was bad, he thinks, and feels sick for it. He’s suddenly not sure he wants to know, and it shows in the way the scent of distressed omega begins filling the room.

“You…don’t remember?” It’s Hannah who breaks the silence, their voice filled with trepidation. They turn wide eyes on Dean, their face set into a frown. “I found you in the omega restroom...” They begin, gaze darting from Dean to Gadreel, who pushes off the wall to come closer to the couch Dean’s laying on. “You were unconscious. I-I…_We… _believe you were attacked…”

The words hit Dean like a punch to the solar plexus and he crumbles under the sheer weight of them. Attacked? Found unconscious? The air suddenly feels like it’s being sucked out of the room through a straw. Dean can’t breathe. He gasps, heart began to pound in his chest even as his lungs strain but nothing happens. No air is coming in and he can feel himself panicking but Dean can’t make himself stop. He can’t _breathe! _The pungent scent of distressed omega is filling the room making it reek and the walls are closing in and Dean can’t breathe.

Everything comes flooding back all at once: Castiel’s instance on ‘starting the weekend off right’ despite it only being Wednesday; coming here to the club; drinks, far too many drinks; his desperate trip to the restroom and then…

Then…

Dean’s eyes glaze over as he remembers Castiel cornering him at the urinal. It’s like he’s reliving the moment—he can feel Castiel’s hands on him, touching him without Dean’s consent and he’s powerless to make it stop. The alpha’s hot breath washes across his neck and face teasing in the face of Dean’s continued suffocation. He’s dying, he’s gotta be. Black spots dance in front of his eyes and distantly Dean thinks he hears someone yell but why would anyone be yelling? It ain’t nothing new for an alpha to use an omega in a restroom, public or not. Dean doesn’t want this. Not again. He just wants to breathe, dammit!

Someone is yelling his name, Dean’s near certain of it, but the sound is far away. It’s like someone shouting from a far-off tunnel but Dean can’t focus on it. The black spots in his vision continue to grow and take his concentration along with it. His heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of his chest even as his lungs burn for the air they so desperately need but aren’t getting. What the hell is happening? A wail starts up somewhere, and god the sound stabs Dean right through his soul. It’s high and thin and sounds just like a dying animal. Dean hopes whatever it is gets put out of its misery; it’d be the merciful thing to do. The world collapses around him, the darkness growing, and all Dean can do is gasp and gasp without any reprieve.

The wailing follows him down into the dark.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: stalking/stalking behaviors
> 
> Chapter now includes NSFW artwork at the end from Sissyray84

Buzz....Buzz....Buzz....

Dean frowned as he stared down at the phone vibrating in his lap. The lit up display read 'CASTIEL' but he made no move to answer the phone. Just thinking of talking to the alpha made Dean's stomach roil and he had to swallow hard against the rising bile in his throat. He couldn't believe this was happening. It'd taken the better part of an hour for him to escape Hannah's well-meaning questions as well as the club and now that he was blinking in sunlight and clear skies Dean had to wonder if it had all been a dream. 'More like a nightmare' he though, grimly recalling what had happened in the bathroom mere hours ago. Part of him still didn't want to accept that it happened--that he'd been /raped/ by Castiel--though the rest of him simply felt ashamed. _This is all my fault!_ He thought miserably as he stared out the window at the passing scenery. Since he'd ridden to the club with Castiel in the first place Hannah had arranged for a car to pick him up to take him home.

"You okay there, hombre?" The cheerful guy in the front--Garth, he'd said his name was--asked as he glanced in the rear view mirror at Dean. "You look like you're in need of some serious cheering up! Is there anywhere else you want to stop first?"

Dean blinked, drawn out of his stupor. He looked up, meeting Garth's eyes in the rearview and shook his head. "Just take me home please." He requested quietly. The thought of going anywhere else sounded like torture. It was bad enough that Hannah had kept insisting on calling an ambulance, or at the very least ensuring that Dean went to the hospital. They meant well, Dean knew, but going to the hospital was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. What good would come of it anyway? There wasn't anything the hospital could do except offer some overpriced generic painkillers before sending him on his way. For less than half the price Dean could grab a six pack and some Tylenol and wallow away in the privacy of his own home.

"Well, if you're sure..." Garth trailed off, and Dean didn't need to see it to know the guy was up there pouting his disappointment. He seemed like a good guy, and had they met under different circumstances Dean could see him possibly becoming friends with him. The phone buzzed in his lap again but Dean barely glanced at it. From the time he'd woken until now Castiel had been calling practically non-stop. He'd filled up Dean's voice mail in under an hour and had simply kept going from there. The phone finally clicked off signaling that he'd hung up but Dean knew it wouldn't be long before he tried again.

_Can't he just leave me alone?_ Dean wondered as he dropped his head down onto the window. The cool glass pane was soothing against his hot skin and he sighed into it. This whole thing was such a mess yet he didn't have a clue as to what to do about it. What _could_ he do about it? There weren't any cameras in the bathrooms and the one in the lounge had only shown Castiel entering and leaving the omega bathroom, nothing else. Except for Dean there was no proof that anything untoward had even happened. For all that anyone else knew Castiel had been drunk and wound up going into the wrong bathroom for a piss. Hannah had made all that abundantly clear to Dean before he'd left and had again stressed him going to the hospital. Maybe if he’d been someone, anyone, else that would have been a viable option but for Dean it wasn’t. 

The phone began buzzing again and Dean had to bite back a scream of frustration. He wanted to throw the phone out the window for all the good it would do him. Logically Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid Castiel forever. Not only would he have to see him the next time he went in to work but the alpha knew where he lived as well. There just wasn’t any escaping which was more than frustrating. _What should I do? _He asked his reflection, but like the rest of him it had no answers. 

“I know it’s none of my business,” Garth piped up from the front just as Dean’s phone went still once again. “But let me guess--jealous ex? Whew! I’ve been there before. It ain’t fun, let me tell ya!” He took one hand off the wheel and waved it around to emphasize his point. “I know it sucks but you can’t let it get ya down, ya hear me?”

Dean stared, flabbergasted. Was he really getting dating advice from his cab driver? Seriously, what was his life? “Uh,” He coughed, not even sure where to begin addressing any of that. “It’s something like that I guess…” Sure, he guessed… What was he, a twelve-year-old girl going through her first breakup? He groaned, shifting slightly in his seat. It was a mistake--a stab of pain shot through his ass and up his spine, nearly stealing his breath away. A whimper slipped out before he could stop it and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Garth’s reaction. The guy was practically drowning in blockers so it was impossible to tell what designation he was but either way Dean was sure he wouldn’t be receptive to a whiny omega. 

Garth noticed his discomfort immediately. “You alright, my man?” He asked, concerned. “There aren’t many spots but I can find some place to pull over if you need me too!” He glanced back at Dean in the rear view mirror again. “I can swing around a drive thru and get something to drink or some ice or something if you think that would help too!”

Was this guy for real? Dean was so shocked by the outpouring of concern coming from a virtual stranger he nearly cried. “I--uh--” He started but stopped because he honestly didn’t know what to say. He was more used to concern covering as a front for an inquisition so in the face of Garth’s earnestness he didn’t have a clue. Ice sounded like a wonderful idea--if he wasn’t in the back of a cab Dean would have no problem sitting on a giant pile of ice. At the very least it would numb his ass enough to where it would dull the pain some. “Maybe just the drink?” He offered up hesitantly, unwilling to fully believe Garth wasn’t just teasing him. “Or the ice…”

“You got it mi amigo!” Garth chirped, completely oblivious to Dean’s inner turmoil. “We’re coming up on a slew of restaurants so I’ll swing through and we’ll get ya something!” 

Ten minutes later Dean had two takeout cups in his hands; one filled to the brim with nothing but ice and the other bubbling merrily with cola. For the longest time he just sat there and stared, his hand clutching the waxed cups hard enough to bend them. _Why is he so nice to me? _He wondered, flabbergasted. He just couldn’t understand it. Unbidden tears began slipping down his cheeks. Dean hunched over, feeling a mix of embarrassed and ashamed, but he couldn’t stop if he wanted to.

Up in the front Garth eyed his charge with sympathy in his eyes. He could feel all the sadness and hurt emanating from his passenger and it broke his heart. He hated to see someone hurting, and after being informed by Hannah that Dean had refused to go to the hospital he had been determined to make things better. So far he didn’t think he was doing that great of job but he was going to continue to try anyway. At the very least his passenger deserved it.

“Thanks.” Dean mumbled wetly; voice clogged to almost nonrecognition. “For the soda and ice... I appreciate it.” He did too despite not showing it very well. He kept his head bowed and the tears continued to fall.

“No problem, friend-o!” Garth reassured, pleased. Maybe he wasn’t doing as bad as he thought he was. 

Coming home again felt weird. Dean stood out in his driveway long after Garth’s taillights had disappeared around the corner yet makes no move to go inside. _I can’t believe we left here together less than twenty-four hours ago! _Dean thinks as he stares up at his house. They’d gotten ready there and had left in Castiel’s ugly car. Now that he’s back and hurting and alone Dean doesn’t know what to think. In his mind's eye he can see himself and Castiel heading out to the club… They had paused on the porch and Dean could still feel the way the wooden banister had felt digging into his spine as Castiel dipped him over it for a searing kiss. He looked away with a frown, grateful when the image disappeared before him. _Guess that won’t be happening again… _

Finally, Dean found himself making the first steps towards getting into the door. He felt unsteady, like the rug had been pulled out from underneath his feet. It wasn't a far-off comparison considering how drastically things had changed in just a handful of hours. Even Dean, who was still feeling the very aching aftereffects, had a hard time believing everything that had happened.

Plus, something still needed to be done about Castiel. The alpha had finally given up calling--something Dean suspected he could thank on his full voicemail--yet Dean wasn't ready to face him. He didn't know how that would work out once they both returned to the set on Monday morning but Dean was willing to shelve thinking about that until Sunday night at the earliest. Realistically Dean knew he couldn't hide in his house and ignore this forever but he was sure as hell willing to give it a try! At the absolute very least he was giving himself the weekend to lick his wounds in private.

Before he knew it Dean had actually made his way into the house. He blinked at his living room, surprised. _Perks of being lost in my mind… _He supposed as he shrugged off his coat on autopilot. He moved towards the kitchen automatically, wishing he had thought about keeping the cup of ice Garth had gotten him, or at the very least the drink. He hadn’t managed more than a few sips of it but the icy coldness had felt wonderful against his raw throat. _Cas must have choked me at some point… _He thought, numb, as he scoured through his fridge for something to drink. Truthfully Dean didn’t remember a whole lot about what had actually happened beyond the obvious. He had told as much to Hannah back at the club though he suspected they didn’t believe him. _And who could blame them? _He wondered as he pulled a can of Sprite from the confines of the fridge. _It’s probably not often someone gets assaulted in their fancy club! _

Dean froze, his need for a drink suddenly forgotten. That had hurt, a lot. A whimper slipped past his lips and before he knew what was happening he found himself on the kitchen floor, his arms wrapped around his legs. He whimpered again, louder this time, and the echo of the sound in the empty kitchen just made him feel worse. Giant fat tears rolled down his face leaving burning trails as they collected in his shirt collar. _How could Castiel have done this? _He brooded; he and Castiel hadn’t been together for long but Dean had loved him. _God, I’m so pathetic!_

How long Dean sat there and cried he honestly had no idea. For the most part he wasn’t aware of time passing aside from being distantly aware of the way the shadows changed in the room. By the time he had cried himself out his head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat and his empty stomach was rumbling its displeasure. He sighed, the sound loud in the room as he resigned himself to having to get up. He uncurled slowly, limbs heavy and stiff, only to freeze part-way through the motion when he caught sight of a shadow moving across the room.

Before Dean’s eyes Castiel stood up from where he’d been crouched alongside the far wall. How Dean had missed noticing him he didn’t know but as the alpha rose to his full height he thought he would puke. “C-cas.” He choked out, terrified. How had he gotten into the house? How long had he been there watching Dean break down? What was he going to do to Dean now?

“Hello Dean.” Castiel said, calm as a cucumber. His rumbling voice sounded deeper in the stillness of the room and seemed to rattle against Dean’s very bones. “You left your door unlocked.” He continued like this was a normal conversation. “That’s not a wise thing to do, just think of who could come in, especially when you were in such a state!”

_What the hell do I do? _Dean thought, his mind nothing but a giant flat-line. His entire body was a confused mixture of deferring signals that he had little hope of decoding. All at once he wanted to run down the street screaming at the top of his lungs. He wasn’t overly friendly with his neighbors but surely someone would hear the racket and come to help? On the flip side Dean wanted to cower and submit, wanted to curl up in a little ball and hope like hell Cas didn’t feel like hurting him anymore. _Oh god, what do I do? Should I run or should I stay? What if he attacks me again? What if...what if he rapes me again?_ Bile clawed up his throat cutting off any words he may have said. Swallowing hard he shook his head and slowly rose the rest of the way to his feet.

Castiel watched him, an amused glint in his eyes. “You’re adorable, did you know that?” He gushed like Dean was a cute pup rather than a very terrified man. “Hmm?” The alpha moved closer, his steps sure and measured like a predator stalking its prey. He didn’t stop until he was mere inches away from Dean’s face. Castiel leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep scenting breath. “Mmmm… you smell divine!”

If he had been scared before it was nothing compared to now. He stood stock-still, barely breathing. _He’s crazy! _He thought, watching wide-eyed as Castiel scented him. Considering how utterly terrified Dean was in the moment there was no way in hell he smelled of anything other than the rancid scent of fear. 

The alpha took several deep breaths, each one deeper than the last as he inhaled the amazing scent of scared omega. It was like liquid fire in his veins and he soaked it up for all that it was worth._ Ah!!_ A rumble bubbled up from his chest, a sure sign of how pleased he was. “You know,” he said conversationally as he leaned in closer to Dean’s neck and the source of the intoxicating smell. He stopped just short of being in licking distance, a feat that wasn’t easy, and looked up to capture Dean’s terrified green gaze with his own. “You can run and hide all you want but you’ll never be free of me. One way or the other I will find you and I will have you. No. Matter. What.” Regretfully he pulled back though he brought a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek gently. “I’ll see you soon my sweet omega.” He told him before he turned, and as quietly as he’d came, he left.

Behind him Dean stood frozen, shocked down to his core. He could feel the walls of his world closing in around him and he was powerless to stop it. Distantly he felt the impact as his knees hit the floor but he hardly cared. Nothing mattered anymore, especially not him. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Depressed Dean, paranoia, Stalking behavior & kidnapping

_ It’s stupid but for some reason things feel different now…  _ Dean considered with a frown. He was standing in the open doorway separating his kitchen from his living room and was looking at the latter. From where he stood nothing seemed amiss, well, no more than usual anyway. Books, DVD’s, blankets, and a throw pillow or two littered the space in a haphazard mess but that was normal and not a cause for alarm. Okay, so that wasn’t true considering how much Sam had bitched Dean out for needing to clean more the last time he had stopped by, but still. With his busy work schedule Dean found he didn’t have time to clear, nor the drive to want to. Plus, the clutter wasn’t _that _bad. Dean had been over to friend’s houses who’d looked much worse than his. Yeah, they had small pups, but his point still stood.

Going back to the living room, it looked the same as it always had—full of soft comfortable furniture and a surround system that would make a DJ jealous. It was one of the most comfortable spots in the house in Dean’s opinion yet something felt different. Not wrong, per say, but certainly off and for the life of him Dean couldn’t think of what it could be. Nothing seemed to be missing (not that he would be able to tell) and he huffed irritably. “You’re being completely ridiculous!” He told himself, the sound of his voice loud in the quiet. He took a last look around before finally turning to face the kitchen. “Stupid.” He growled, ready to stomp across the kitchen when the realization hit him: he was alone.

“Son of a bitch!” He swore because it was so obvious! It was a thunderbolt moment and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before. He wasn’t missing some _ thing _ , but rather some _ one _ : Castiel. Since they had started dating the alpha had been in Dean’s life nearly 24/7 and now that he wasn’t there anymore the holes he left behind in his wake were glaring. Dean swore again and scrubbed a hand harshly down his face. How stupid could he get? It just figured that Castiel wouldn’t be as easy to get rid of as Dean had initially hoped.  _ “You’ll never be rid of me….” _ The alpha’s voice whispered creepily through Dean’s mind, causing him to shudder.

Ugh, just ugh. It’d been two days since Dean had come home to find Castiel had broken into his house and the fear that it’d happen again hadn’t faded any. No matter where Dean went in the house, no matter what he was doing, he still felt Castiel’s eyes on him. It was like a constant itch between his shoulder blades and it was slowly driving Dean crazy. Thankfully Castiel hadn’t been back—at least from what Dean could tell. He’d taken measures to prevent it; the next day he went to the hardware store to replace all the locks. He’d even set up an appointment for an alarm company to come in which was supposed to happen any day now.

Still, the fear had remained. In a fit of paranoia Dean had taken time off from work, much to Sam and Bobby’s equal befuddlement and worry. Dean couldn’t bring himself to care about what they thought—he desperately needed the time to get his head on straight after everything. Besides, he still wasn’t ready to be out in the world just yet. He still ached from stem to stern and the limp he’d developed due to his obvious injuries hadn’t abated yet. He was managing though. Sort of. Could it be considered managing when he woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares? Or having a near-constant sore throat because he kept screaming himself hoarse? Dean figured the answer to both questions was a hard ‘no’ but what did he know? He was a television star or was if he ever got back to work properly, not a doctor. And since he staunchly refused to go see an actual medical doctor then that meant everything had to be fine, right? Right.

Honestly, Dean doesn’t know who he’s kidding—it certainly wasn’t himself. He could try to ignore it until the cows come home but the truth remained that the ugly facts would surface eventually. If nothing else Dean would have to return to work and there’d be no avoiding it then.  _ Stupid! You can’t exactly hide and cower from Castiel when the whole crew will be right there watching!  _ He groaned, dropping his head down onto the coolness of the refrigerator door. He didn’t remember crossing the room, something that was horrifyingly becoming a trend, but now that he was there a cold drink sounded like a good idea. He needed too…he didn’t know what. He was scared to leave the house and scared to stay and everyone he knew was at work.

_ Why was not telling your brother a good idea again?  _ He wondered as he pulled a random bottle of soda out of the fridge. Much to his disappointment there was no beer left though considering the way he and Castiel had been putting it away it was hardly surprising. He should probably go grocery shopping at some point though the idea made fear run down his spine. What if Castiel came in while he was out? Or tailed him to the store? Confronted him in the parking lot? The possibilities were endless and he hated every last one. “You need to get a grip on yourself!” He growled out as he slammed the refrigerator door shut. Talking to himself probably wasn’t the best way to go around doing so, but who was there to judge? He sighed, and with a further growl, decided to ignore it for the time being. Grocery shopping could wait for another day, and if it couldn’t there was always take out…

Still annoyed he turned, though instead of heading out to the living room he headed straight down the hallway. With nowhere to be and no one looking for him it was the perfect time to get things done like catching up on the giant pile of laundry growing in the corner, but Dean had other ideas. He burst into his room irritably and flung himself down on the bed. He had the presence of mind to change the sheets that morning and the cool crisp scent enveloped him in a cocoon. He wasted no time in wiggling underneath the mound of blankets and sighed contentedly when he was all but buried aside from his face. Nesting was a uniquely omega thing to do, and something that Dean had struggled against doing for many years. His father, John, had deeply disproved of the practice and had shunned Dean for trying to do so. It hadn’t been until he’d gotten a place of his own that he gave it another try and at times when he was practically stressed, like now, he was glad he had. There was something unbelievably comfortable about being able to bury underneath a pile of blankets and sheets and let the weight of them soothe the stress of the world away. Dean would never admit it out loud but he loved it. Before he knew what was happening Dean found his eyes slipping closed as the soothing weight of the blankets lured him into sleep.

The next morning dawned cool and bleak, and despite the full night’s rest (and part of the afternoon) he’d gotten, Dean didn’t feel rested. He staggered around the house like an extra in a zombie movie, the deep bags hanging under his eyes doing nothing to dissuade the look. He dragged himself into the kitchen in search of caffeine only to nearly weep upon realizing he was out of coffee. “Dammit all!” He cursed as he slammed the cupboard shut. This wasn’t how he wanted to start the day; it’d been bad enough that he had woken with the distinct impression he had been dreaming of Castiel even though he hadn’t remembered the dream upon waking. Running a hand through his hair causing it to stick up everywhere, he groaned. It looked like he was going grocery shopping after all. Forty-five minutes later Dean had shit, showered, shaved, and was dressed and in the car. He was marginally more awake than when he had started but it’d have to be enough.

He headed out, traveling East to the small town that resided twenty minutes away. The town wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination but it worked. There was a small grocery store, a couple of gas stations on each end, a handful of drive thru places, and a post office. There was also a town hall, a small hotel, and more houses but really that was about all there was to it. Some folks didn’t like a small town but Dean didn’t mind it. For one thing it allowed him to go and shop like a normal person without being hounded by people with cellphone cameras. And for another it was nice that Dean knew most of the people he came into contact there on the regular. Martha, the older woman who ran the post office, was a favorite of Dean’s.

By the time he reached the first gas station Dean was yawning fast and furious to the point he could barely keep his eyes on the road.  _ Coffee is most definitely needed! _ He thought blearily as he pulled over and parked near the small store. Crappy gas station coffee wasn’t the best option but at this point he was willing to take whatever he could get if it had caffeine involved. Mind on his mission, he ambled into the building and made a bee-line straight for the coffeemakers in the back. It wasn’t until he was halfway through filling up the largest to-go cup the place had when the hair on the back of his neck stood up in alert.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel spoke up behind him causing the omega to falter. The coffee pot in his hand wobbled as he turned, accidentally pouring coffee all over the counter as he stared in disbelief at the alpha standing just a foot away. “Wha—what are you doing here?” Dean rasped out through a suddenly dry throat as he stared at Castiel with wide eyes. Part of him couldn’t believe it; this was one of his nightmares coming to life and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry about it.

The alpha was dressed like he was on his way to work—faded jeans, worn old Def Leppard shirt, perpetual messy bed hair. He should have already been at work, some distant part of Dean’s mind pointed out though he ignored it. What did that matter when the man was literally standing right there in front of him? “You look well.” Castiel spoke as if Dean wasn’t standing there seconds away from having a heart attack. “I’ve missed you these past few days.”

Dean was sure he was hallucinating. He  _ looked  _ well? Castiel was kidding, right? Despite the shower Dean was still haggard looking and he was fairly sure his clothes had begun hanging off him since he’d mostly gave up on eating. Good looking was the furthest thing he was at the moment and they both knew it. “W-what are you doing here?” He repeated even as he was looking over the alpha’s shoulder towards the counter. The young beta who worked the register wasn’t in sight but surely they had to be around there somewhere? All it would take would be Dean shouting…

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” Castiel said like he was reading Dean’s mind. His voice lowered, turning deadly. “It would be a shame if something…bad…was to happen to that nice young cashier, wouldn’t it?” He stepped closer, not breaking eye contact with Dean. “Wouldn’t it, Dean?”

Holy  _ shit.  _ A whimper of fear escaped Dean without his decision and he found himself taking an involuntary step backwards. He didn’t dare look away, too afraid of what would happen if he did. The edge of the counter dug into his back; there was nowhere to go. “What..” He licked his lips, trembling all over. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” A slow, satisfied smile spread over Castiel’s face as he leaned in until his face was only inches away from Dean’s. “You’re going to come with me.” He said, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re going to pay for your coffee, get in your car, and drive back to your house. You won’t speak a word of this or else bad things will happen to everyone you breathe a single word to. I’ll be following along to make sure you do exactly as you’re told.”

_ Fuck!  _ This was like the plot to one of those serial killer movies, Dean’s brain thought hysterically even as he found himself nodding in agreement. The very last thing he wanted to do was what Castiel had proposed, but what choice did he have? None, as far as he could tell. It wasn’t right to put the cashier or anyone else in harm’s way just to save his own hide, Dean reasoned. If the manic look in Castiel’s eyes was anything to go by then all Dean would be doing was delaying his own undeniable end. There was no hope left for him but there was no reason to take anyone else out with him. Still shaking, he nodded again, and glanced back to his coffee. The cup had overflown and coffee was everywhere; dripping off the counter onto the floor. He winced, making a grab for the napkin dispenser to clean it up when Castiel spoke up behind him.

“Don’t!” The alpha hissed, eyes flashing red. “Leave it. Grab your cup and go pay. NOW.” His tone was ice cold and left no room for anything except obedience. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Dean simply nodded, mute. He dropped the napkins he had managed to pull from the dispenser onto the pile and picked up his cup. The hot liquid sloshed out onto his hand, burning hot against his skin and he bit back the wince of pain. As quickly as he could, he headed to the register and proceeded to stumble through a rambling apology for the mess, fully aware Castiel was watching. The young beta was less than impressed, though  _ better mad than dead  _ Dean thought as he left the store. He tossed the coffee into the trash can as he passed it on his way to the car. He was still exhausted as hell but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it down. He got in the car and spun out, heading towards home. He didn’t look back to see if Castiel was following—he was sure the alpha was.

Thankfully the house was just as he’d left it, nothing visibly amiss. Still feeling phantom eyes on his back, Dean pulled the impala in the garage and parked it. He left the door open behind him though he hardly needed to for when he looked up Castiel was right there standing outside the car door.

“Get out!” Castiel barked. He didn’t give Dean time to even get the door open before he was doing it himself. He flung it open to a canopy of screeching from aging joints and reached in to unbuckle Dean’s seatbelt before he could so much as lift his arms. “I am done playing with you.” He told Dean, voice and face icy as he made short work of the seatbelt before he was hauling Dean up and out of there. “You’ve been a naughty omega and it’s time you learned your lesson.”

Dean made a wordless squawking noise in his throat as first his car and then he himself was manhandled. Everything was happening too fast and he literally had no idea what was going on here. Playing with him? Naughty omega? None of it made a lick of sense to him. The ‘incident’ at the club aside they had only had pretty vanilla sex if Dean said so himself! He didn’t voice that out loud—he knew better than to dig himself in deeper than he apparently already was.  _ What the actual fuck is going on here!?  _ He had the presence of mind to wonder as he was hauled, unresisting, out of the car.  _ Is he going to kill me now? I didn’t do anything!!!  _ Dean nearly crumpled when his feet finally touched the garage floor, and he would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Castiel’s quick reflexes. The alpha held him up effortlessly like he weighed no more than a small pup and proceeded to pin his bulk against the side of the car.

“Don’t worry,” He purred, voice teasing the edge between downright creepy and soothing. “I won’t let you fall.” One hand moved up from where it had been gripping his side to slowly run through Dean’s hair. The movement was gentle, and had the circumstances been different it could have even been considered affectionate.

Before Dean could protest, or try to move, or hell anything, there was a flash of silver on the edge of his vision. He looked up at Castiel alarmed. His heart sped up and leaped into his throat at the same time. A million things flashed through his mind—regrets, wishes, things he had wanted to do or see and never had the time or chance for.  _ Son of a bitch! He really is going to shoot me!  _ He thought in a panic, cowering the best he could considering there was literally nowhere to go. Of all the ways to go he had never imagined being killed by an ex-lover in his own home. That was the shit of Hollywood movies, not something that was supposed to happen in real life!

Except…

the expected shot never came. Instead of hearing a bang there was a small prick on the right side of Dean’s neck and suddenly the world turned to liquid around him. “What?” He slurred—or at least he thought he did. He was distantly aware of the world falling around him and then suddenly there was nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Kidnapped Dean, imprisonment, mentions of handcuffs and ankle shackle

“Hey Alfie,” Sam greeted as he breezed into the gas station. He’d stopped to fill up before heading into work and coffee was calling his name. It wasn’t his favorite but he could deal since he’d felt too lazy to brew his own this morning after his run. “How’s it hanging?”

“Oh hey Sam!” The dark-haired beta gave a wave as he looked up from the comic he was reading. “It’s been pretty quiet around here.” He waved to indicate the empty store. “Though it’s still early I suppose. How’s your brother doing?”

Over where Alfie couldn’t see him well, Sam smirked as he filled his cup with coffee. It was no big secret to anyone aside from Dean’s completely obliviousness that Alfie had quite the crush on his big brother. Sam found it cute, himself. There was a bit of a gap, age wise, but he could see it working if Dean ever got his head out of his ass. “I don’t really know,” he replied, craning his neck to look over the shelves at the counter. “I haven’t talked to him this week. I know he called the other day and asked Bobby for some time off so I figured he was just taking a vacation, you know?”

“Oh.” The boy looked disappointed as Sam came up to the counter to pay. “He was in here earlier this week but he didn’t look like he was feeling good. He was shaking and he spilled coffee all over the place.” He rang up the coffee. “That’ll be $2.48.”

“Huh,” Sam said as he dug in his pocket for his wallet. “Bobby didn’t say anything about him sounding sick on the phone. Though it’d be just his luck to go on vacation and end up sick!” He pulled the money from his wallet and handed it over. “I’ll give him a call though just to check.” 

“Will you tell him I’m not mad about the spilled coffee? It was a pain to clean up but it’s cool. I know Dean isn’t the type who’d do something like that on purpose!” He rang Sam up and handed over his change along with his coffee. “I hope he’s okay!”

Sam had to bite down on his cheek to keep the grin that wanted to grow from spreading. Alfie’s concern over Dean was frankly, adorable. It was a shame that Aflie didn’t just go for it with Dean, Sam thought; they’d certainly make a cute couple. “I’m sure he’s probably holed up in bed resting.” Sam was sure he was--he had caught Dean nesting enough times to know it was a habit he’d gotten into when he didn’t feel well. Unlike their asshole of a father, Sam was fully supportive of Dean doing more omega things, especially whatever brought him some comfort. “I’ll tell him about the coffee,” he promised to Alfie as he stuffed his change back into a pocket. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you aren’t angry with him.”

“I hope so!” Alfie looked so worried Sam’s heart practically melted right there on the spot. He shot Alfie a reassuring smile as he slowly backed towards the door. “He will, trust me! I’ll catch you later!” Sam said, giving a little wave as he pushed through the door.

Once outside Sam didn’t hesitate. By the time he reached his car he’d already pulled his phone out and begun dialing. He listened to the ringing on the other end as he got into the car, frowning. Dean always answered his phone. Even when he was nesting he didn’t miss a call; he usually ended up burying his phone under the blankets with the rest of him. The fact that he wasn’t answering the phone right away, especially after what Alfie had told him, bothered Sam. He scowled as the ringing clicked over to the voicemail and angrily pushed the end button. “What the hell, Dean?” He grumbled out loud as he called again. If Dean was asleep or something stupid like that Sam was going to kill him. 

Just like before it rang and rang before the voicemail kicked on again. Glancing at the time, Sam scowled deeper as he bit out a message: “Answer the phone you jerk! A friend of ours said you were sick. Why didn’t you call me? Either way I’m going to swing by there after work, and no you don’t get a say in it! If you need anything before then call me!” Ending the call, Sam leaned back in his seat and sighed. A couple of missed calls wasn’t anything to get concerned over, Sam knew, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something more going on. 

Glancing at the clock again, he winced, noting the time. Bobby was going to have his head if he was much later. “Dammit!” He swore, hitting a fist against the steering wheel. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t have time for this! Whatever was up with Dean was just going to have to wait until he was done with work. Mind made up, he pushed the weird thoughts to the back of his mind and pulled out of the lot. Surely Dean could take care of himself for another day?

**~*~*~**

I_t’s cold. _The thought filtered through Dean’s head slowly, trickling in alongside consciousness. He shivered, still more asleep than awake as he wondered what had happened to his blankets. Even when he wasn’t nesting it was rare that he slept without a blanket or two on the bed. Shifting groggily, he went to reach for the blanket...only to realize he couldn’t. “What the?” He slurred, waking up just a fraction more as he tried moving his arms again. He wasn’t imagining it--his arms didn’t move. Dean blinked blurry eyes, perplexed. This was certainly strange to say the least. Both of his arms had been tightly pinned behind him by...something...he didn’t know what. _Maybe I just got tangled up in the blankets…._ He tried a third time, jerking harder than before only to freeze when the sound of clinking metal reached his ears. What.in.the.fuck? 

Awareness kicked in like someone had slapped Dean across the face. He opened his eyes wide, and to his horror, found he wasn’t tangled up by his sheets like he’d thought. _Guess I’m not in Kansas anymore_! He thought as he stared stupidly at the dark wallpaper splashed across the wall a few short feet in front of him. Delicate white vines and gold leaves spread across the dark background in a calming pattern but it was lost on Dean as he continued to stare. That wasn’t his wallpaper. Dread curling in the pit of his stomach, he squirmed his way carefully onto his side only to find his panic ratchet up another notch as he stared at the rest of the room. 

As feared, Dean was in a bedroom, but it certainly wasn’t his. What was worse was the dual realizations that he was naked and he was laying on the floor rather than on a bed. Cold ceramic tile (the source of his coldness) that shockingly looked like wood stretched out the length of the room. What he could see of three walls held the same leaf and vine wallpaper but the most horrifying thing of all was the heavy steel door set into the far wall. Even from where he lay Dean could tell the thing was solid and the lump inside his stomach clenched with the realization. _What the hell happened? Did someone get the drop on me?_ He wondered, more than horrified as he squirmed around enough to see in the opposite direction.

The fourth wall, what he could see of it, looked to be unfinished stone that someone had painted over with a deep yellowish gold color. A heavy brown curtain hung down one side of it, possibly covering a window. The bed was directly behind him--one of those fancy modern looking ones with just a thin headboard and cream and dark colored bedding. It was the only piece of furniture he could see in the room, and not for the first time Dean had to wonder just what in the hell had happened to him. Was this a joke? Who the fuck would go through all the trouble just to kidnap him in the first place? 

_This is too much! _He thought as he moved to curl up...and froze solid when his right leg drug across the floor. _Oh please no! _He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see. Finally he dared to peek...and immediately wished he hadn’t. Wrapped around the delicate skin of his ankle was a solid steel cuff attached to an equally solid looking chain. Dean swore, his voice barely audible as he slowly moved his leg in closer to the rest of his body. Up close the cuff was worse than he thought--it was roughly five inches wide and there was no keyhole or any way to remove it that Dean could see. He gulped, feeling the hot swell of tears building behind his eyes. _I’m so fucked! _He thought as he drew his legs in anyway, curling up into a ball the best he could.

It took a long, long time for Dean to even think about moving again. His mind was blank as he carefully uncurled; his body stiff and cold from laying on the floor. Since he couldn’t use his hands it took a while, but eventually, with the help of the bed, he made his way to standing. From his new position the bedroom looked smaller. He couldn’t test it, obviously, but he was sure he could reach the exposed beams of the ceiling with his hands if they were freed. 

Despite the fact he was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey awaiting dinner, Dean padded over to the door. Up close the door was steel and just as solid as Dean feared it would be. There was also no handle on the inside which meant Dean was well and truly trapped. “Fuck!” He shouted, and in a fit of desperation kicked the door. Pain shot up his leg so fast his head swam and tears sprang to his eyes. “Let me out!” He screamed uselessly. “Castiel you fucker! Get me out of here!”

Unfortunately for Dean there was no answer. There wasn’t even the barest hint of a sound coming from behind the door. He kicked it again only to crumple under the weight of the pain in his leg and in his soul. Pulling his injured leg in close, Dean curled up into a ball and wept bitter tears. 

**~*~*~**

To Sam’s consternation the day seemed to drag on forever. The fact that he was wholly unfocused throughout a good chunk of it hadn’t helped either. He couldn’t help it, however. He had tried calling Dean again on his lunch break but had gotten no further than he had that morning. Dean still hadn’t answered and Sam was truly beginning to worry. Sick or not it wasn’t like his brother to keep missing phone calls like he was. 

Needless to say by the time Bobby called cut for the day Sam was more than ready to hit the road. He wasted no time in going back to his trailer to get out of his costume and back into his street clothes. From the time he got dressed to the time he reached his car he’d left two new messages on his brother’s phone and was very nearly ready to scream from sheer frustration. Channeling it into usefulness he put his foot down on the gas and sped off. It was nothing short of a miracle that Sam didn’t get stopped for a speeding ticket on his way to Dean’s for as fast as he drove. The house, when he arrived, was dark. There wasn’t a light to be seen anywhere and more than anything else that set the alarm bells ringing in Sam’s head as he parked and got out of the car. 

Feeling dread sinking down into his bones Sam bounded up the front porch steps and bee-lined for the small row of resin garden gnomes that sat alongside the far edge. Sam, like most sensible people, had always found the gnomes to be vaguely creepy, but Dean on the other hand, actually liked the ugly things. It didn’t help matters either that each one of the gnomes were decorated differently. There was everything from your basic gnome straight down to one wearing nerd glasses and holding a cellphone. Rolling his eyes, Sam reached down and plucked the summer gnome up. This one was Dean’s favorite--the gnome had a chip in his hat where it had been dropped and was wearing beach shorts and flip-flops. _Dean really needs to get a life… _He thought, giving a shake of his head as he turned the gnome upside down, and just as he suspected there was a key carefully wedged into its hollow base. If you asked Sam it was the most obvious place in the world to stash a key, but who was he to argue his brother’s ideas? Besides, at the moment he was grateful considering it took two long strides to get back to the door with the key in hand.

“Dean?” Sam called as he pushed his way inside. It was just as dark as the outside had appeared and Sam reached for the light switch near the door. Flipping it on, he blinked out at Dean’s living room. The place was as messy as ever but it looked exactly the same as the last time Sam had been over. “Dean?” He called again, not really expecting an answer. Already Sam was moving on, heading deeper into the house. 

Sam ended his search in the garage, frowning at the silent sight of the Impala parked there. “Where’s Dean?” He asked the car like it was actually capable of answering back. Nothing in the house had looked disturbed and Sam didn’t know what bothered him more, that, or the fact the impala was still there. He circled the car slowly, frowning when he found the keys to it still hanging out of the ignition. _Dean would never leave the keys like that! _Sam thought, hackles raised as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Dean’s number, hoping beyond hope that his brother would answer. It’d barely rang three times when Sam heard it: the muffled sounds of Led Zeppelin's ‘Ramble On’ coming from inside the car. Yanking open the driver’s side door Sam’s heart sunk down into his feet at the sight of his brother’s phone partially sticking out from underneath the seat. The terrible feelings he’d been trying to repress came rushing to the forefront of his mind as Sam realized he couldn’t ignore it anymore: something terrible had happened to Dean. 

With numb fingers, he managed to push the end button on the call, plunging the garage back into silence. _What the hell happened, Dean? _Sam wondered as he stared at his brother’s phone. He couldn’t imagine what could have happened to his brother; Dean had seemed dopily happy with Castiel the last Sam had seen them. Castiel was, as far as Sam knew, okay. The man had been distracted at work earlier, fumbling through the simplest of lines, but he’d been there. Sam stepped away from the car, frowning. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. It was time to call for help.

**~*~*~**

Dean hadn’t meant to fall asleep but when he woke it was to find he was warm and vaguely comfortable. _Maybe it was all a bad dream… _He hummed, not wanting to open his eyes. As long as he didn’t he could believe it was true whether or not it actually was. Sadly his peace was shattered when an unfamiliar female voice spoke up somewhere near his left side: “Rise and shine sunshine!”

“I know you’re awake.” The voice continued on like Dean’s world hadn’t just come to a screeching halt because, what the fuck? His eyes flew open and to Dean’s utter shock there was a woman crouched beside the bed. Wait, when had he gotten into the bed? And under the covers no less? The confusion must have shown on his face because the woman tilted her head back and laughed. The woman was pretty, Dean noted distantly. She had dark wavy hair and pale skin and was wearing an oversized pink v-neck shirt that hung off one shoulder and a pair of black leggings. She sobered up quickly and fixed him with a serious gaze. “I’m Meg.” She said, rocking back on her heels. “I’d offer to shake your hand but that wouldn’t work to great, would it?” 

Dean couldn’t help it: he snorted. Apparently Meg fancied herself as a comedian or something. “You’re hilarious.” He deadpanned. There was something surreal about having a normalish conversation when he was handcuffed and naked under a blanket. “Why am I here? Where’s Castiel?”

“Skipping right past the pleasantries, I like that!” Meg grinned her approval, flashing her teeth at him. “To start you’re here because our dear Castiel has decided you’re worth keeping around. Me? I’m not sure about that yet since we just met ‘an all but I’ll let you know! Secondly, Castiel is out of the building!” She laughed at her own joke, leaning forward again. “He’s at work duffus, where else would he be? It’d be too suspicious if he up and disappeared at the same time as you, duh! So for now you’re stuck with lil ‘ole me!”

“Castiel...wants to keep me?” Dean parroted back uncertainly. Surely he had heard her wrong, right? “Why? Why me? I didn’t do anything to him!” At least nothing the alpha hadn’t wanted done to him, right? The knowledge that Castiel wanted to keep him buzzed around unpleasantly in Dean’s head, making him review their interactions in a whole new light. “Can you get me out of here?” He wasn’t one to beg, but if it worked he was all for it. Summoning up the best version of puppy eyes he could muster, Dean aimed them at Meg.

“Oh hon, he’d be stupid not to want to keep you! Have you seen you? You’re way more adorable than he described to me!” Meg reached out and bopped him on the nose. “Bottom line: yes he wants to keep you and yes that’s why you’re here. As for the why, why not? Like I said you’re cute as a box of babies or whatever. He’d be stupid not to want to keep you!”

Dean gaped at her, momentarily stunned into silence. He couldn’t believe that they were talking so casual about the fact Castiel wanted to keep him like he was a new puppy or something! “I--what--who _are _you?” He spluttered, recoiling in fear as she touched him.

Meg leaned back and rested her arms on the edge of the bed. Where she had looked joking only a moment ago now she eyed him seriously and with a degree of sympathy. “Look kid, unfortunately for you it really is that simple. Castiel wanted you and here you are. He happened to see you and thought you were attractive and you know the rest. I don’t ask about his process in choosing who he does, and he doesn’t offer. Them’s the facts and the sooner you come to terms with it the better. If you don’t you’ll only drive yourself crazy asking ‘why’. Also, and I thought this one would be obvious, but apparently not… I’m Castiel’s wife.”

Dean was ninety nine percent sure he heard his brain record scratch? Wife? Castiel had a _wife_?! Horror flooded through him alongside embarrassment as he recalled all the things he and Castiel had done together. He eyed Meg nervously, suddenly fully aware of how vulnerable he was. Did she know what he and Castiel had done? She didn’t seem angry, which was good, but did that mean Dean needed to bring it up? Should he just ignore it and pretend everything was fine? “He...has a wife?” He finally squeaked out, still having a hard time believing it.

“Yep!” she popped the ‘P’ loudly. “I can show you pictures if you don’t believe me. It’s okay if you don’t, most don’t until they see at least the ring or pictures or both! And before you go worrying your pretty little head, yes I know all the details, and no, I don’t care.”

If Dean had been standing he was sure his jaw would have hit the floor. Was this woman for real? She not only didn’t care that her husband was screwing around on her, but the person he was screwing was his new kidnapping victim? That was the most fucked up thing Dean had ever heard! “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He finally said at last because, seriously? Who wouldn’t be bothered by that? Dean was bothered by it and he was the so-called ‘other woman’! 

Meg rolled her eyes at him. “Hate to disappoint, but no. I’m not kidding you. I really don’t care what Castiel does with his hobbies. And before you ask, no you're not special. You're not the first, fourth, or even the tenth omega he’s done this to.”

Dean wasn't the only one Castiel had kidnapped? Horror bloomed hot and heavy in his chest at the knowledge. His chest felt constricted, a vice clamped around his heart. How many? Dean wanted to ask. How many omegas had Castiel done this to? How many had he pretended to date before kidnapping? And what had happened to them afterwards? Had they went back to their lives like nothing had happened? Or had Castiel harmed them in some way? Had he killed them? The possibilities flitted through his mind in rapid succession, each one worse than the last. Dean was beyond horrified; who wouldn't be? Before all this he never would have imagined Castiel--gentle, bumbling and awkward Castiel--could ever be tied to something like this. It didn't make a lick of sense, and had he not been right in the middle of it, Dean wouldn't have believed it. Faceless omegas slipped through his mind like pictures on a grainy reel as he tried to picture it. 

Meg had to admit she was impressed. This was the part in the story where most of the omegas either panicked or ran. So far, aside from some whimpering she was sure he didn’t realize he was even making, Dean was handling the news well. She was watching him closely, however. A few omegas before him had reacted violently and she wasn’t in the mood for yet another broken nose. “Look at it this way,” she said, subtly leaning back out of headbutting reach. “It could always be worse!” Things for Dean _were _going to get worse but there was no need to get into all that at the moment. Meg was a firm believer in letting things come when they happened. Besides, it wasn’t like Dean could do anything to stop what was going to happen anyway, so why worry? 

Dean snorted; he couldn’t help it. “I don’t think things could get much worse.” He said, meaning it. He was already a victim of kidnapping and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, what else could there be? He wasn’t stupid, he knew on a deeper level things could get way, way worse than they already were but wasn’t ignorance bliss? And beyond that it wasn’t exactly like he could do a whole hell of a lot to improve things with his arms chained behind his back. 

Oh, if only he knew. It was tempting, right at the tip of her tongue to tell him everything, but Meg refrained. Dean would find out in his own time just how much worse things could get. As for Meg? Well, she’d be there to clean up the mess when the time came. “You’ll see.” She said cryptically, looking Dean in the eyes. “You’ll see.” He would, soon enough.

~*~*~

It was terrible how quickly you could get used to something, Dean mused as he stared around the empty bedroom. Already the walls, with their weird leaf and vine wallpaper, were becoming familiar. By Dean’s estimate he’d been there for nearly a week now, though it was truly impossible to tell. There was no clock in the room, and much to his surprise no windows. Worse, Meg had straight-out refused to tell him how long it’d been, or even the time of day the last time she’d visited! “Sorry Dean-o, it ruins the vibe, ya know?” It was, in one word, maddening. Dean had sulked after she had left, but in a twisted way he got it. Castiel was all about mind games and getting things his way. Dean didn’t know what kind of hold Cas had over Meg but he was beginning to suspect she was just as much a prisoner as he was.

Castiel, for all that he’d been the one to kidnap Dean, had been nowhere to be found thus far. “He’s gotta keep up appearances.” Meg had explained when Dean had asked, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the idea was brilliant. If Castiel was at the set when Dean was discovered missing nobody would suspect him. Dean still didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that but whatever his thoughts had been eclipsed by Meg telling him to feel lucky. “Trust me.” She’d said, her normal tone dropping into complete seriousness. “Be grateful he hasn’t come back yet. You won’t enjoy your stay after he does!” She had left shortly thereafter, leaving Dean to stew on his own.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter includes non con drugging, violence and physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual abuse.
> 
> See the end notes for a brief description if you'd rather skip it.

_This sucks!_ Dean thought as he carefully rolled, wiggled, and finally pushed his way up off the bed to standing. The move had been tricky to do at first, and the realization that he’d been there long enough to do so now was sobering. He was trapped like the proverbial rat and it was all his fault. _I should have listened to Sammy… _He thought morosely as he shuffled his way towards the bathroom. It was slow-going; the chain and ankle cuff weighed him down and clinked and groaned with every step he took.

If nothing else being held captive had given Dean a lot of time to think about his life. He had spent a great deal of time contemplating all the time Sam had given him grief over not seriously looking for a mate. Dean had paid him no mind--plenty of folks didn’t have mates and went about their lives just fine, Dean included. He regretted not listening now, and not just for the obvious reasons. Dean missed his brother, worry about his dating life notwithstanding. _I wonder if Sam knows I’m missing yet…_ Dean pondered as he shuffled his way into the bathroom and headed straight for the sink. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Sam didn’t know yet, and Dean would have no one to thank for that except himself. He had been vague with Bobby on taking time off and since neither Sam or Bobby called Dean regularly it could be close to a month before they realized. The thought was sobering, and Dean frowned at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. _Maybe I _am _lonely…_ All signs pointed to yes if someone could be missing for a month and nobody would even notice. Dean didn’t know if he should be surprised or appalled. 

_Maybe a little of both? _He thought as his empty stomach gurgled at him. Meg still hadn't brought him any food, citing Castiel's rules but Dean had found a way around it. Sort of. Leaning forwards as far as he could without overbalancing, he stretched until his head came to rest against the cool metal of the sink's faucet. Less than a second later, water began spraying from it and Dean wasted no time in twisting enough to aim his face underneath the deluge. He drank as deeply as he could despite the painful twinge of the cold water hitting his empty stomach. He drank until the water stopped and then finally leaned back, panting. Water dripped down his face and continued on but Dean hardly cared. He took a couple of deep breaths as his body adjusted before he leaned down and repeated the process.

When he came up for air the second time he stumbled away from the sink. His stomach sloshed on the full side of painful but Dean grinned, satisfied. He'd realized the faucets were touch activated by pure accident; he'd tripped on the bathroom rug on the second or possibly third day and had nearly brained himself off the sink. He had been sure he was hallucinating the water coming from the faucet at first but to his delight it had been real. Dean didn't know how long ago that was but he'd been sneaking drinks from the faucet every time he was in the bathroom since.

He turned back to the bedroom, contemplating his options. There was no place to sit aside from the floor or the bed. The former was too cold against his naked skin for his preferences but he was getting tired of the bed. What I wouldn't give for a couch! He thought somewhat hysterically, shaking his head at himself. He was hilarious...in his own mind at any rate. He stopped just inside the doorway separating the two rooms when a strange hissing noise caught his attention. "What the?" He croaked, looking around with some alarm. Had a snake somehow gotten into the room? He didn't want to be anaconda bait!!

To Dean's profound relief there didn't seem to be any snakes, at least none that he could see. But was the room getting hazy? Confused, Dean lifted his head and looked around the room, startled to see a fog like mist seeping out of the small vent fixed high on the wall near the bathroom door. "The fuck is that!?" He yelped but it was already too late: the mist quickly covered the room in a thick blanket of hazy white. Dean coughed, eyes watering. He dropped to the floor in a crouch but it didn't help. His head and vision swam in tandem as he felt his body slip sideways towards the floor. A familiar deep chuckle vibrated through his bones, following him down into the deep.

**~*~*~**

“Oww!” Dean whined, still more asleep than awake, though that was rapidly changing. He didn’t recall what had hit him but whatever it was must have been a doozy! His head throbbed with a deep penetrating pain that seemed to go straight through him to his spinal cord. “Ugghh…” He groaned, feeling sickened. _Must have hit my head off the faucet again…_ He thought as he tried to force his eyes open. It takes time; the low light in the room is enough to send lightning bolts of pain stabbing through his skull but Dean eventually gets them open...and freezes.

There, leaning across the wall from the bed (and when did he get back in bed?) is none other than Castiel Novak himself. The alpha is a sight for tired, and watery eyes. He looks almost as tired as Dean feels--there’s dark smudges under his eyes and his perpetual messy dark hair looks like he’s been running his hand through it. He’s dressed normal in a pair of faded, ripped jeans and an equally faded green Mt. Dew t-shirt. He looks good and despite the situation he’s in Dean finds himself licking his lips in appreciation. “Hello Dean.” The alpha rumbles.

“C-Cas.” Dean coughs out, feeling strangely tongue-tied. It’s overly ridiculous considering Castiel has effectively kidnapped Dean but common sense has flown out the window. Along with most of Dean’s brain, apparently, as he stumbles over the vast scope of things he wants to say. There’s so much he literally can’t figure out where to begin. “Why?” Slips out at last, unbidden. Why is Castiel doing this? Why did he take Dean? Why Dean at all? Why is he so special?

“Why?” Castiel mocks back, his tone unchanged from its steady deep rumble. “Why not?” He asks simply, his dark gaze burning a hole through Dean. He shrugs like it’s really that simple; like they’re discussing something as mundane as the weather rather than why Dean’s handcuffed and naked under a blanket.

“You’re a bastard!” Dean spits, finding more of his words. Why not? _Why not_?! “I’m just a joke to you, is that it? You get your rocks off kidnapping people? You that hard to please or what?” His voice rose with his anger. Dean wanted nothing more than to storm over and strangle the alpha despite the fact he couldn’t bound as he was. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!”

Castiel shrugged again, seemingly unbothered by Dean’s mounting anger. “Aren’t you a joke?” He inquired, “That’s what I was led to believe at any rate by, well, everyone. Your co-workers, the crew members. Even that boy at the gas station that has an unhealthy obsession with you described as much! Tell me, Dean, what are you?” The alpha leaned forward, his eyes still locked to Dean’s. “You pretend you’re so high and mighty and act like everyone else is beneath you. Even your own kin agrees--Sam practically admitted as much the first day I met him!”

Dean gaped, momentarily rendered speechless. “I…” He started only to snap his mouth closed before the syllable left his mouth. Was he a joke? He thought back to that first day with a frown, recalling how late he’d been to the set. He’d been coming off his heat, sure, but the decision to be late had nothing to do with that. He frowned as he considered. Could it be true? Could all his co-workers actually hate him? Was he nothing more than a joke to any of them? “You’re lying.” He countered, though his heart wasn’t in it. There was simply too much doubt. 

Castiel tilted his head to the side before pretending to brush some lint off his shirt. “Believe whatever you want.” He told Dean, “But the proof is in the pudding, is it not? Why has no one come looking for you yet? Why does no one know you’re even missing in the first place? Hmm?” He paused, posing dramatically in a thinking position. “Let me think…” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Dean. “Oh wait! That’s right, the great Dean Winchester decided to take time off without mentioning how long he would be gone or when he’d return.”

Dean winced, cowed. With everything that had happened afterwards Dean had completely forgotten about his call to Bobby. He’d only intended to take a day or so off not...however long it’d been now. Bobby had to be beyond pissed; Dean frowned as he pictured it. If he were anyone else, in any other kind of job his ass would have been fired for sure. “They don’t even miss me, do they.” It wasn’t a question--Dean already had a good idea of the answer. 

Castiel pushed off from the wall and moved closer to the bed. “They hadn’t when I left the set yesterday. Consensus is you’re off having a good time with, I believe her name is Heather.” He stalked around the bed slowly like a shark circling its prey as he moved out of Dean’s eyesight. “Tell me, Dean,” Castiel leaned down, his breath brushing the shell of Dean’s ear, “How does it feel to know everyone you care for think you’ve just callously abandoned them? Hmm? Do you feel good knowing that you’ve pushed away anyone and everyone who could possibly help you in your time of need?” He leaned in further and gently nipped at the outer shell of Dean’s ear, his teeth barely skimming the delicate flesh. “Despite what you may think you’ve been perfect for my plans since day one. Thanks to your callousness I can do whatever I want to you, and the best part is that nobody will ever know! All I’d have to do is show up with some sob story about you and Heather and nobody would bat a second eye at me!” He chuckled and bit down harder on Dean’s ear.

Dean yelped at the sudden bite and tried to squirm away to little avail. There was nowhere to go on the bed with Cas’ heavy weight slowly pressing him into the mattress. How is this his life? He wonders, caught somewhere between horrified and resigned. He can’t believe his family thinks he ran off with _Heather_ of all people. She’d been a blonde, green-eyed omega Dean had ran across on a trip to Texas roughly six years ago. They’d had a very bendy night of fun together but that’d been all there was to it. She’d wanted to see what it was like being with a male omega and Dean wasn’t above being a test subject. They’d parted ways amicably, though Dean had tried giving her his number before she left. She’d laughed but had bought him breakfast as an apology before quietly slipping away. Dean hadn’t seen, or heard of, her since. 

He didn’t think Sam or Bobby would have ever remembered him recounting the story but apparently someone did. Either way Dean was floored, and hurt, that his so-called family thought he could just up and leave like that. Like, seriously? Dean was a lot of things but he wasn’t one to just up and leave like his family was some ditchable prom date. _Nice to know what they really think of me… _Dean squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry. What would be the point? It wasn’t like crying would solve anything. . . if anything it’d probably just give Castiel more reason to torment him. “Just go away.” Dean told Castiel. He already felt like shit, why add on to it?

“Go away?” Castiel repeated, voice deadly quiet. “You want me to _go away_?” He hissed, and suddenly his weight on top of Dean increased ten-fold as he pressed down on Dean. “You don’t get to make the rules here!” Castiel snarled right into Dean’s ear. “I am the one in charge! NOT you!” With no warning whatsoever he reared back and took a swing at Dean’s head. His fist collided perfectly with the side of the omega’s jaw and the resulting whimper was music to his ears. “You would do well not to disrespect me in my own home!”

Dean moaned in response, dazed and dizzy from the sudden burst of pain. With his eyes closed, he hadn’t seen the hit coming and the surprise of it hurt nearly as much as the accompanying pain. He moved his jaw slowly, hissing through his teeth as the small movement sent aftershocks of pain spiking through his head. It was stupid but Dean couldn’t believe Castiel had actually hit him like this. Yeah, the alpha hadn’t held back on hitting him before, but he was practically defenseless now! Dean couldn’t fight back if he wanted to (and part of him did) so what the fuck? “F-fuck off C-Cas!” He slurred out, not giving a damn what the alpha had been spouting about disrespect. What kind of alpha went around harming incapacitated omegas in the first place? 

Before Dean could so much as blink Castiel’s suffocating weight was off him. Next came the thin protection of the blanket causing the naked omega to shiver under the onslaught of the cooler air from the room. Castiel’s weight returned a moment later as he clambered back on the bed and proceeded to smash Dean underneath his weight. He sat straddling Dean’s side, rendering it impossible for the other man to buck him off. “Now, where were we?” He asked as if they were discussing the weather and not Dean’s bought of insubordination. It was the only warning Dean got before Castiel began: “What.” Punch. “Did.” Punch. “You.” Punch. “Say?” Punch. 

By the time Castiel stopped Dean could barely breathe, let alone take in enough air to reply. His head and arms were a mass of throbbing that his brain could hardly make sense of. Dean wheezed out a breath and tried his damndest to curl up despite not being able to move. Pain shook him to the core and he whimpered and groaned, unable to do anything else.

Above him Castiel straightened, smirking. “That’s what I thought.” The alpha said, sounding smug. “You’ve been such a naughty puppy but you’ll learn your place soon enough.” Then, before Dean could parse through his words Castiel’s fists were flying again. He punched and pinched and hit and slapped until his hands were nothing more than a stinging mass. He hit any part of Dean he could reach: Head, arm, stomach, leg. It hardly mattered; the only thing that did was the satisfying sound of flesh hitting flesh as he pounded his point home. “You.” Punch. “Will.” Punch. “Learn.” Punch. Punch. “To obey me!” 

Below him Dean gurgled out what could have either been an insult or an apology had it been able to be understood. The pain was more than overwhelming--he’d never felt any like it in his life! He had enough presence of mind to realize he’d bitten his tongue as blood filled his mouth before it dripped out onto the sheets below. 

Castiel was enjoying this immensely. He shifted, his jeans feeling incredibly tight against his straining erection. There was just something _so _satisfying about watching an omega squirm underneath him. The rapidly darkening bruises painted Dean’s pale form like a canvas of Castiel’s own making and he felt like he could come just from the sight alone. He exhaled dreamily and reached down to grab Dean’s pathetically flaccid cock with one hand. He squeezed and pulled cruelly, loving the way Dean keened under him. Oh yes, this was perfect! “What’s the matter?” He cooed in mock sweetness as he continued his assault. “Aren’t you enjoying having your cock played with? You told me how much you enjoyed it!”

Dean screamed. His voice, and whatever remained of his retorts had died a fast death with the way Castiel squeezed down on him. Dean didn’t dare look--he was fairly sure Castiel was trying to pull his dick off and he did _not _want to witness that! “P-p-ple-eeease!” He gasped out, his words muffled by the tears that were flowing hot and fast down his face. 

“Please?” Castiel mocked as he gave Dean’s cock a hard twist and drank in the deep screaming sob that tore from Dean’s throat as a result. “You’re so pathetic!” He declared as he finally let go of the abused organ. “I truly don’t know what I saw in you in the first place!” He huffed, seemingly offended. He leaned down until he was eye to eye with Dean, his gaze hard and cold as ice. “For your sake I hope you learn from this lesson.” Then he straightens and delivers one final hit to Dean’s skull, effectively knocking the omega out cold.

Castiel remains where he is for a moment and busies himself with simply watching the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest. The omega is going to be a roadmap of bruises in a few hours and it’ll be simply beautiful to witness. The alpha smiles as he pictures it, and he’s still grinning when he finally slides his way off the bed. He takes a moment to straighten his clothing before he heads for the steel door. 

He doesn’t look back at the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is drugged so Castiel can come visit. He mocks Dean with his words and viciously beats Dean.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of the aftermath of the beating, Dean has a breakdown.
> 
> NSFW Artwork!! Picture shows a very bruised/beaten Dean!

It’s the middle of the night by the time Dean finally surfaces from the depths of unconsciousness. 3:19 a.m. the bedside clock reads, the glowing green numbers the only light in the otherwise dark room. For a while Dean’s simply content to lay there, taking stock of himself.

On first take _ everything _ hurts so much it’s overwhelming. His legs, thighs, and ass are a deep throb amongst the other pain, and even without seeing it Dean’s sure he’s probably bruised down to the bone in places. Castiel hadn’t held back, that much was for damn sure. Next in line are his sides, ribs, and face which feels pretty much like he’s went several rounds at the wrong end of a pair of fists, and oh. Wait. He did, didn’t he? Remembrance hits him dead in the chest with all the weight of a freight train leaving Dean floundering and breathless. _ Geez _! He thinks, horrified, and feeling spun out. He knew Castiel could be violent—he’d seen that up close already—but the man had been relentless last night. It was like seeing his alpha side for the first time and Dean wasn’t ashamed to say he wasn’t still scared shitless from witnessing it. Who wouldn’t be?

_What the hell did I do? _ He wonders as he lays there, motionless, blinking up at the dark ceiling far above him. _ He’s the one who kidnapped and brought me here! I didn’t even get a say in it! _ There’s a feeling of wetness on his cheeks and much to Dean’s humiliation he realizes he’s crying. _ I’m such a pussy! _He thinks miserably, but his heart isn’t in it. He feels beaten—ha! —and broken so what’s a few tears on top of that? It’s not like they can help, or make it hurt any worse than he does now, so why not?

Dean loses some time sniffling out his fear and pain to the stillness of the night, but eventually he finds he absolutely must move. His bladder is aching for release and as much as he doesn’t want to get up the prospect of Castiel coming back to find Dean’s wet the bed like a pup isn’t one the omega is willing to consider.

That isn’t to say it’s as easy said as done. He stiffened up quite a bit in the intervening hours between Castiel beating him down and now which makes even the smallest movement painful. Dean hisses and moans, bottom lip firmly caught between his teeth as he slowly shifts his way off the bed. God, but he _ hurts! _The steel shackle firmly tethered to his right ankle isn’t helping anything, getting tangled in the blankets and slowing him down even further. It’s a hassle that, not for the first time, Dean wishes would just go away. He’s already trapped like a rat…the rest of this just seems unnecessary.

Still, there’s no time to wallow in thinking of ‘what if’s’. Getting to his feet is another small torture, and Dean can barely cough down the strangled noise that rises in his throat, but he makes it. By the time he crosses the bedroom to the attached bathroom he’s practically dragging himself, only to come to a dead stop when he reaches the threshold.

The low lights in the vanity have bathed the room in a dim golden glow, but it’s not the light that makes him pause even if it does make his eyes water. No, that honor goes to the sight of himself in the giant mirror set above the sink. He’s a two-legged _ plethora _ of bruises and Dean feels his heart drop somewhere in the vicinity of his knees just by looking at his reflection. Holy. Fucking. _ Shit. _

Thanks to the bathroom lights Dean can make out why his hips are hurting as bad as they are—the clear light of small bruising circling them makes it perfectly clear. Cas’ fingerprints, he realizes with dawning horror as he stares at the deep purple blobs. He moves closer into the room, to the mirror, despite himself. Bile crawls up his throat as his heart ramps up double time in his chest. What the actual fuck? Dean’s always liked a bit of pain with his sex, it ain’t like he’s tried to hide it, but this? This is something completely different. It’s night and day and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry or be sick about it. The bruising extends down both his legs, growing larger and more pronounced as his eyes trail the purple-black blobs downwards. _ Fists, _Dean thinks dully, feeling oddly detached from the situation suddenly.

His hands shake where they’re cuffed against his lower back, and Dean finds himself grateful that he can’t touch the bruises. They look painful enough just  looking at them; he doesn’t want to know how bad it’d hurt to try touching them. He feels lightheaded and without conscious decision he finds himself sinking downwards. The cold hardness of the door frame and the coolness of the tiled floor against his bare butt register though to Dean though the sensations are distant. Muted.

His mind is a whirlwind. He doesn’t fully need to remember what happened to know that he probably had it coming for some reason. Maybe he was too mouthy, or maybe Cas simply needed something to hit and Dean was in the wrong place at the right time. Who knew? The whole point was it’d happened and there was nothing Dean could do about it now.

Somehow, he manages to doze off. It’s a dangerous thing because Castiel could come back at any time but there’s no fighting biology no matter how uncomfortable he currently is. He’s exhausted and injured and so, so heartsick. It’s comparable to someone sticking a serrated knife in his heart and twisting round and ‘round. It hurts and is sickening, and Dean’s inner omega wails its eternal displeasure of it all.

While Dean doesn’t think a lot of time passes between closing his eyes and opening them again, he realizes some must have for Meg is standing in front of him, a frown fixed firmly in place. She looks like she just rolled out of bed in a pair of bright blue bumblebee patterned pajama pants and a darker blue Wayward tank top. Just the sight of her crumbles the last of Dean’s willpower, and without his consent, he bursts into tears and leans towards her seeking comfort. If his arms were free he’d be reaching out like a toddler wanting a hug. He should be humiliated, he knows, but he can’t find it in himself anywhere to give a damn. Meg’s been nothing but soothing towards him and for once in his life Dean’s willing to ask for the hugs and loving he so desperately needs.

Meg, for her part, doesn’t disappoint. She crouches down within easy reach and spreads her arms like Dean’s one of her pups. “C’mere,” she cooed, her light melon scent settling over Dean like a light airy blanket. Dean wastes no time. He leans forward, ignoring his injuries, and practically melts into her warm embrace.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Meg murmurs above him, her voice soft and soothing. She brings one hand up to stroke through his hair while the other remains firmly around him and something in Dean thaws just being held by her. It’s been so long since he’s had comfort of any kind and he soaks it up like a sponge despite knowing this reprieve is just temporary. He’s not safer with Meg than he was on his own but he’s willing to take the chance now that he’s got it and damn the consequences should they get caught together. Meg seems to feel the same for she makes no moves to pull away, instead snuggles in tighter. “It’s okay,” she repeats over and over like a mantra. “It’ll all be okay, I promise.”

Dean huffs, disbelieving. He knows it isn’t—how could it be when he’s Cas’ prisoner? —but he doesn’t move away. They remain like that for who knows how long, each taking solace in the quiet breathing of the other. It’s nice, far nicer than Dean could have ever asked for, and he’s drifting on the verge of passing out once more when Meg finally breaks through the cocoon of silence they created. “How about I help you take a warm bath, hmm?” She asks, gently scratching the top of his head. “It’ll help you feel better.”

He startles, turning as much as he can to blink up at her slowly. “A bath?” He mumbled, still more asleep than awake. Despite that, he does have to admit the offer is more than tempting. He hasn’t had a bath since he woke up here, bound as he is. Finally, he nods in agreement. “Okay.”

“Great!” Meg beams at him and goes to stand, carefully pulling him up with her. It’s a bit awkward cause of all Dean’s hardware but they finally make it and Meg offers him another grin once they’re both up. “Okay, I’m going to start filling the tub and then go straighten the bed covers for afterwards.” She says, gaze pointedly looking at the way Dean’s squirming tellingly now that he’s back on his feet again. “Just give me a call when it’s ready!” And with that she reaches down to turn on the taps before turning and heading back into the bedroom, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she goes.

Dean blinks after her, flummoxed. Meg was an enigma that Dean found he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. She helped him despite being married to Cas… it made no sense to Dean but who was he to complain? He shook his head, determined to ignore the spiraling thoughts for now, and after a quick glance to make sure Meg wasn’t watching he shuffled over to the toilet. Whatever game Meg was playing, if she was playing one, could wait. For now Dean was determined to take whatever measure of comfort he was given.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter includes rape, non con drugging, and non con mating bites.
> 
> Please read end notes for a brief description if you'd rather skip it.

“Time to wake up puppy!” Castiel declares in a loud sing-songy voice as he storms into Dean’s bedroom. He’s a man on a mission—a tornado on two legs as he moves. By the time the loud clang of the thick steel door slamming shut behind him echoes through the room he’s already halfway across it. “You’d better be awake!” He warns, and it’s the only warning Dean gets before he’s right there beside the bed. The omega blinks up at him sleepily, still under the effects of the drug mist Meg had insured he’d been doused by when she left. There’s a tell-tale hint of fear underlying that green gaze and oh, how the sight makes Castiel’s cock twitch in his jeans. He’s half hard already and has been ever since he woke up to the delicious sight that now lays before him.

Dean had looked absolutely _perfect_. Castiel really can’t thank Meg enough for the good job she’d done after she’d gotten Dean back into bed. Once the omega had been drugged into sleep, she’d went to work spreading rose petals everywhere. Unlike the normal cliché of red roses these petals were an alluring pink that darkened to a near purple color as they died. The contrast was beautiful; they covered the floor, the bed, there was even a trail leading into the bathroom. The omega had looked simply delicious splayed out in the middle of the bed with the petals arranged around him just so. Castiel wasn’t ashamed to admit he'd gotten off just watching Meg work thanks to the hidden cameras that connected to the laptop in their bedroom. By the time she’d been done and Castiel had gotten to take in the whole effect he’d been rock hard and leaking once more. He licked his lips as he recalled the way he had pounced Meg as soon as she’d gotten back to their room. They’d both been desperate--they didn’t make it to the bed. They’d rutted up against the wall like they were teenagers again until they both came screaming Dean’s name. 

Castiel hadn’t been able to contain his excitement long enough to get properly dressed to go in to see Dean. He had planned it already, what he would wear, but in the end the plan went right out the window. Boxers, socks, shoes, shirt, all of it had been left on a heap on his bedroom floor as he barely managed to shimmy his way into a pair of jeans. Castiel had zipped but forwent buttoning; Dean was too enticing to wait for. 

A small pain filled whimper brings Castiel back around to the present. He blinks and looks down to find Dean watching him with wide eyes. _He looks beautiful like this, _Castiel thinks and gives in, letting his alpha side take control. He leans in and captures Dean’s lips in a heated kiss. The omega is unresistant, frozen underneath him and it makes Castiel hunger for him even more. “You’re mine.” He growls out, eyes ringed in red and full of possessiveness. “I’m going to make sure everyone who lays eyes upon you knows it.” 

To say that Dean is scared is an understatement. He’s fucking terrified of Castiel and what he’s going to do. The shift in his personality is a complete 360 from the last time he was in to see Dean and the omega doesn’t know what to do with the information. He knows Castiel’s like this, how his mood swings from one direction to the other in a blink of an eye, and it terrifies him. Castiel’s capable of doing anything and Dean is helpless to defend himself from it. The sheer horror of the realization makes his heart squeezed painfully in his chest and another whimper slips free from him, completely against his will. He should say something, should resist in the small way that he can but . . . he can’t. The pleas are there on the tip of Dean’s tongue yet he can’t utter them. The memory of Dean screaming while Castiel manhandled his now black and blue cock is still standing out starkly in Dean’s mind, weighing his tongue down.

“You’re a fucking disappointment!” The ghost of John Winchester shouts in his head and Dean cringes under the weight of the phantom. Things are bad enough without adding his father into the mix, he thinks bitterly. John was another alpha who’d set out to hurt Dean, and much like Castiel he had succeeded in doing so. It just figured that he’d rear his opinions when Dean was being hurt yet again by another alpha he trusted. When Castiel kisses him, Dean lets him. What’s the point in trying to fight anymore?

Castiel watches Dean spacing out with lust burning through his very veins. The drug mist is potent but he’s never before seen the aftereffects of it so closely before. It’s fascinating to see the way Dean’s eyes glaze over as he stares out into the middle distance. It’s this, watching the way his body goes slack as he lets Castiel do whatever he wants that turns Castiel’s dial all the way up to eleven. Castiel kisses him once more before biting down on Dean’s lower lip. The tiny inhaled gasp of pain is absolutely worth it and he finds himself smirking in satisfaction as he pulls back from the bed to standing. He wastes no time, hands practically vibrating as he unzipped his jeans letting his cock finally spring free. He groans his relief to the air as he struggles to get his jeans the rest of the way off before turning to the bed once more.

Dean hasn't so much as twitched and Castiel takes a long moment to appreciate every detail of the way the omega looks. Thanks to Meg he's been cleaned from head to toe and still smells faintly of the soap she used. Castiel's grateful, and not just for the obvious reasons. Dean's been positioned onto his stomach and the sight of so much pale skin mottled by bruises of various colors makes Castiel's mouth water. He traces the pattern of them with his eyes, just barely tamping down on the urge to lean in and lick the path of them. Even the omega's cock, just barely visible between the slight spread of his thighs is a deep purplish color that has Castiel practically salivating. There's no doubt--he's going to enjoy this.

Dean knows, somewhere deep in his mind, what’s going to happen before it does. Part of him has been hyper aware while the rest of him has been drifting on the wave of drugs. He feels, more than sees, Castiel pull away. The sounds of a zipper being pulled down and Castiel’s near-pornographic moan make Dean’s heart kick into high gear yet he reigns himself in at the last moment. Maybe if he’s quiet enough, _boring _enough he won’t be as appealing? It's a ridiculous notion, especially considering last time but Dean’s terrified into parallelization; all he’s got is ridiculous. What else can he do? There’s nothing and the lack of hope weighs heavily on his chest. The bed dips behind him and all at once Dean stiffens. _Here we go. . . _He thinks, reigned to his fate, as he squeezes his eyes closed. It won’t hope--nothing will--but he doesn’t want to see. He feels shut down, checked out. It’s like his brain and his will to protest has up and gone leaving nothing but a broken shell behind. As he feels Castiel settle into place behind him, his heavy body draping over Dean he wonders what will be left of him afterwards. If there will be anything left worth saving. . .

Castiel was going to _enjoy _this. He climbed onto the bed and settled into place straddling the omega’s bound body. Dean was a long line of tense rigidness underneath him, and oh so beautiful. Castiel wanted to take the time to worship him like a fallen god cast asunder yet at the same time he wanted to rip Dean apart with his teeth. “You’re so, so good.” He told Dean as he draped himself over the tense form, enveloping him in a terrible parody of am embrace. Dean was hot under him, burning up, and the feel of his body against Castiel's, even without moving, made his cock twitch in interest. 

The alpha stretched, leaving slow burning kisses down Dean’s spine as he went. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” He asked Dean, though he didn’t really expect an answer. “You’re absolutely perfect. So gorgeous looking!” He kissed his way from the nape of Dean’s neck down to his tailbone before he stopped. “Mmmmm…” He rumbled, his inner alpha slipping into control. Without warning he leaned down and left a possessive bite right on the meatiest part of Dean’s left buttock. Under him Dean yelped and bucked--the first signs of resistance he’d offered since Castiel had come in. Hmmm. If he’d known that was all it took. . . 

Licking his lips, Castiel leaned over and repeated the bite on Dean’s right side, riding out his bucking this time. Oh yes, the alpha groaned. Obedience was excellent to have, but this? This little act of uncontrollable defiance? This was what Castiel wanted the most. When he finally pulled back he grinned down at his handiwork. The bite marks were nearly identical and were deep, even bleeding a lot. Dean would be feeling them for days, if not longer afterwards. “So perfect!” He cooed again, unable to resist as he stroked the small of Dean’s back, electing a shiver to follow in his wake. 

Castiel was fucking with him. Dean shuddered under the irony, not at all amused. He had figured at most Castiel was going to rape him again but this? He hadn’t been expecting this? Through the steadily lessening hazy of drugs he could feel how much the bite marks on his ass stung. Just barely shifting made him hiss through his teeth, and for the nth time Dean had to wonder: why me? What made him so special? He didn’t get it, had never seen what was so beautiful about him that everyone kept praising. 

Unfortunately, he wasn’t about to find out either. Two burning hot hands were on his hips, angling his ass upwards, and Dean only had time to think ‘holy shit’ before he felt it: the tip of Castiel’s dick pushing into his ass. _This isn’t happening! _Dean thinks, freaked. _Not again! _This is just like the panic from the restroom that day except it’s so much worse. He’s like a rat caught in a trap and squished between Castiel’s weight and the bed to boot. There’s nowhere to go and nowhere to run and as Castiel rams into him in one hot, long slide Dean feels something within him break. A sob tears from his throat as Castiel bottoms out and Dean just. . . checks out. 

Distantly, like he’s off floating on a cloud he can hear the grunting, panting as Castiel begins chasing his pleasure. _It doesn’t matter, _Dean tells himself even as his body grunts and is moved along with Castiel’s. _It’s not really happening! _It’s a lie, and no amount of wishful thinking can change that, yet Dean’s brain clings to it for all he’s worth. It’s an impossible dream for pain fills Dean senses straight down to his soul. He nearly drowns under the conflicting sensations: the sharp burning pain as Castiel rams into him over and over, the way his hands dig deeply into the bruises covering Dean’s body. . . Grunting sobs are being steadily pushed up out of Dean’s throat further erode the dream-like state leaving him clinging to the wisps of his broken dream. 

Cold, hard reality slams home as the sharp burn in Dean’s ass increases tenfold. Castiel’s knotting him, he thinks horrified, before he’s plunged over the cliff. While he was doing his best to ignore what was happening Castiel had stroked him to hardness alongside his own. Now Dean comes screaming Castiel’s name, high and beyond horrified. The keening sound is high and reedy, full of all the agony Dean’s feeling in his body and soul. He’s just barely come back down when he feels it: the pinprick drag of sharp canines over the left side of the neck before Castiel is biting down hard. Agony explodes behind Dean’s eyes for the second time in as many seconds and this time he loses himself over to it. Castiel is fucking _biting _him. Claiming him in a way Dean wants no part of. 

Liquid fire rushes through Dean’s veins as his heart clenches in his chest. His inner omega is screaming inside him and there;s nothing he can do. Nothing will help. The bite is unending and unwanted; it’s the worst violation Castiel could have inflicted on him. The rapes had destroyed his body and mind but this? The bite destroyed Dean down to his very soul. Before he passes out fully Dean feels that deeply treasured part of him inside die, engulfed in flames . . .

~*~*~

Dean surfaces sometime later from dreams of molten lava and endless torture to crack weary eyes open in hell. It wasn’t a dream--he’s still here, still trapped. Castiel is long gone, the room cool and silent, yet Dean shivers violently in the aftermath. He can still feel Castiel’s eyes on him, can still feel every touch the alpha made against his skin. The keening wail starts up again, rising from the depths of his soul. It’s a miserable sound of loss and betrayal that echoes off the walls and sits in Dean’s bones. He languishes there, trapped in the echoes of screams and pain and knows nothing will ever be the same again. 

Eventually the absolute need for a drink compels him to move. His throat and tongue feel thick and swollen, by-products of all the screaming he’d done. Would the misery ever end? He wondered as he slowly blinked up at the ceiling. Ever since Cas had taken him it’d been one torture after another and Dean truly didn’t know how much more he could take. It seemed an eternity passed before he finally found the will to kick his body into gear, but once he does Dean keeps going. 

He makes it to standing . . . for all of two seconds before his legs collapse under him, sending him to the floor. All the air is punched out of his lungs in one fell swoop as pain flares through his body white-hot and sharp as lightning, short-circuiting his brain. Dean gasps like a fish stuck out of water and for several agonizing seconds he can’t breathe. He gasps and gapes and hopes like hell this won’t be the way he dies before finally, finally, he manages to suck down a single breathe. It goes down like hellfire and sets off a series of coughs that rattle his entire frame.

By the time it’s over Dean’s sure he’s dying. Everything hurts worse than before and to his horror he finds somewhere along the line he started to cry. It isn’t helping with the whole breathing thing but he can’t make himself stop either. It’s the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back and just like that all the fight goes out of Dean. He goes lax in his bonds and simply sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter picks up a few hours after the previous one left off; Meg drugged Dean after his bath. Castiel comes into the room and rapes Dean. During it he knots Dean and forces a mating bite on Dean. Dean breaks down afterwards.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Descriptions of an omega in heat. Possibly NSFW
> 
> See end note for a brief description if you'd rather skip it.

_It’s so hot! _Dean thinks, panting for air that feels too thin as it scrapes into his lungs. He’s sprawled out the best he can on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, face down, but he’s as far from comfortable as he can get. His skin pricks with the barest touch; even the gentle current of air as it circulates is too much to bare. He’s sweating and shivering and god, how can this be happening now? He’s not quite far enough gone to not know what this is--it’s a heat, has to be--but why now? Dean doesn’t know for sure since it isn’t like there’s calendars laying around but he thinks he still had a month or so to go until his next one. _Fuck my life! _He thinks as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries his best to melt into the not cool enough flooring.

Dean’s still on the bathroom floor when Meg finds him sometime later. He’s still panting, sweating, and a miserable mess. The heat, and it’s most definitely a heat despite what Dean thinks, has grown worse. His body is begging for release and since he can’t move the way he needs to it’s translated into him humping the bathroom floor in a futile bid for relief. A small rational part of his mind knows he should be humiliated to have Meg see him this way but the bigger part of him doesn’t have the energy to care. 

“Aww, poor baby!” She cooed as she drops to her knees beside him on the floor. “You’re so miserable, aren’t you?” She reaches out and gently cards her fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face. “I wish there was something I could give you,” Meg says, and to her credit she does sound regretful, “But I don’t have anything here that would help much with this.” 

The words are like a blow to Dean’s already bruised and battered body. He whimpers in response, far past being able to communicate with actual words. He hasn’t stopped humping the floor, can’t stop. All he wants, one way or the other, is relief. Given the circumstances he wouldn’t care if Meg had decided to take a page from Castiel’s book and beat him unconscious. It wouldn’t have helped with the heat any but at least Dean wouldn’t have been awake and continuously stuck in this hell like he is now.

“I know,” Meg keeps stroking, smoothing the sweaty strands back against his head. “I’m sorry. I’d give you something if I could.” She sounds remorseful though Dean hates her just a little bit anyway. It isn’t her fault, he knows, (it’s Castiel’s) but he can’t help how he feels. Meg’s a beta and they aren’t designed to have heats like omegas do. It was a fact of life that Dean had always known but it had never bothered him until now, when he was faced with it.

He simply moans, fever-glazed eyes rolling to look up at her pitifully. For all intents and purposes he feels like complete and utter dog shit. His body is burning hot on the inside for release it just can’t find while the outside has been thoroughly battered thanks to Castiel. Dean whimpers again at just thinking of the alpha’s name. Slick drips out of his hole as he clenches and moans, torn between wishing Castiel was there to ease his pain and never wanting to see the alpha again. He doesn’t know how Meg can stand it--the bathroom feels like it must be a million degrees and stinks to high heaven of sickly sweet distressed omega in heat.

Above him, Meg pauses in her petting to glare up at the pinhole sized camera lens she knows is nestled in the corner near the ceiling. It’s positioned to show the entirety of the bathroom, and thus has a great view of Dean’s suffering. Meg glares at it angrily, a bit of her heart going out to Dean’s distress despite herself. She knows Castiel is no doubt watching from the safety of their bedroom across the house and she wants him to get a good look. “Help him!” She mouths wordlessly, angrily, despite knowing Castiel won’t. He’d made his views on it quite clear when he’d finally came stumbling back to their room last night. 

“You know why I can’t!” He shouted across the room, his face turning red in his fury. “He’s nothing more than a hole to be used! Nothing more! Why should I help a whore out with its heat? It isn’t my problem!” Castiel had made a quick exit after that, slamming the door behind him in the process. He’s remained gone most of the night but he’d finally returned early in the morning and apologized. Meg had been having none of it. Unlike her husband she had remained up watching the camera feed as Dean slowly deteriorated before her eyes. Meg didn’t understand it since she didn’t have heats of her own but as night had turned into dawn she knew she needed to do something. If nothing else maybe providing some comfort would go towards helping Dean. If nothing else, Meg was sure it couldn’t hurt any.

“How about another bath? Hmm?” She hummed as she focused her attention back onto Dean. The poor omega certainly needed one: he was still covered in blood and semen from Castiel’s earlier visit and had been sweating like a pig ever since. Not to mention he stunk to literal high hell from the distressed pheromones and slick that was coming off, and out of his body thanks to the heat. It had taken all of Meg’s faux acting skills just to keep from wrinkling her nose at the combined odor. “I’ll make it a cool bath this time, what do you say?”

A bath. . .? Dean blinked up at her drowsily, not fully comprehending her words. His brain had went and checked out once more leaving him feeling sluggish and not all there despite the heavy weight of his body. It was an odd disconnect that only happened when his heats got bad though he couldn’t ever recall having one that left him feeling this terrible. Either way he hummed his consent, or what remained of it that he could give. Even half out of his head as he was Dean doubted Meg at her worst couldn’t do half the harm that Castiel had already inflicted on him.

Meg sighed, frustrated. It didn’t take a genius to see that Dean didn’t understand a single word she’d just said, so what now? It wasn’t like she had any other options here aside from digging around for the fake knot she used when Castiel was off ‘working’. “I can’t believe I got stuck with this!” She grumbled under her breath, glaring up at the camera once more. While this was far from her first kidnapped omega rodeo that was the first time one of them had went into heat and it wasn’t like there was an instruction manual. “Okay.” She said out loud like Dean had actually replied instead of the weak kitten noise he’d made. “Let’s give the bath a try.” If that didn’t work she was willing to sacrifice her toy for the good of the omega. Though privately she doubted Dean would be able to use it even if Castiel gave her permission to unchain one of his hands. Ugh. Why did she get stuck with the literal shit job of the equation? 

Slapping her hands down on her thighs she stood up. “Just stay there and I’ll get everything set up.” She said like Dean would actually be able to get up and follow her. As it was she didn’t think he’d even be able to get up to get in the tub under his own power. It takes a handful of steps to cross over to the claw footed tub and get the water started. As promised she sticks to the cooler side of the temperature scale, waiting to see the water start to fill the tub before she turns back to Dean.

Just as predicted he’s right where she left him. His eyes have slipped closed and to her relief, he doesn’t seem to be dry humping the floor anymore. In fact the omega is laying there completely lax like he’s completely given up. Despite knowing what Castiel ultimately has planned for him Meg can’t help the surge of compassion she feels towards Dean. He’s been so different from all the other omega’s they’ve taken over the years. It’s been, well, nice, if Meg says so. Not for the first time she wishes that she could keep him forever. She frowns briefly--it’s there and gone again in a second as she shoves the conflicting feelings down. Like it or not she can’t keep Dean so there’s little point in hoping...besides Dean needs her help now.

She walks back over to Dean and crouches down beside him once more. Her hand goes out and comes to rest gently on his forehead. To her aggravation he’s burning up and not responding at all. “Dean?” She asks, loudly. “Open your eyes.” God, if he gets truly sick or something what are they going to do? The thought is like a douse of ice water on her previously warm feelings because it isn’t like they can just take him to the nearest ER. 

Dean whimpers and moans, but he does slit his eyes open obediently. Just like before the green eyes were glassy from the fever and don’t really seem to look at her. He whimpers again, the sound of pure misery as the heady scent of slick hits Meg’s nose. Giving up on prosperity she wrinkles her nose at the smell, just barely refraining from making a comment that she knows won’t be appreciated. “Let’s give the bath a try, okay?” She says instead, wondering how this is her life. “Can you stand?”

It’s not a surprise when Dean doesn’t answer her or make any moves towards getting up. Still Meg sighs anyway, resigned and heading towards exasperated. She doesn’t blame Dean--it isn’t his fault his body has gone completely haywire thanks to what her husband did but still. It’s a whole lot of unfair that she’s the one stuck cleaning up the mess (literally) while Castiel watches. “Okay.” She repeats, mostly to psych herself up as she moves in position. Dean doesn’t react when she grabs him, nor when she lifts him bodily off the floor. 

While the omega weights far less than Meg would have guessed he’s nothing more than dead weight. She struggles under his bulk and knows she’ll be feeling the burn in her back for a couple of days afterwards as she hauls him across the room. Thankfully it’s a short few steps to the tub and though she tries to be gentle about it Meg ends up dropping Dean mostly into the cold water. “Shit!” She yelps, struggling to right him before he ends up drowning in the few inches of water that’s accumulated. _How the fuck is this my life_? She wonders, not for the first time, as she gets him settled. It’s awkward; Dean’s curled up on his side with his upper half leaning heavily against the fogged glass of the shower partition part of the tub. His eyes are still closed and he looks even more washed out than he did when he was splayed out on the floor. Meg sighs as she surveys him, hands on her hips. “Castiel so owes me for this!” She declares to no one as she reaches for the hand sprayer. 

She sprays Dean down from head to foot, letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding when he starts to squirm. He doesn’t open his eyes and he doesn’t tell her off so she takes it as a win. “Hopefully this helps ya.” She tells Dean as she sprays him off one more time before going to get a washcloth and soap. If nothing else at least he’ll be clean after all this.

A good fifty minutes later Dean has been scrubbed, dried, and put back into bed amidst fresh sheets and a clean blanket. His temperature had come down some but he’d remained docile throughout everything. He whimpered and groaned throughout the scrubbing though he hadn’t truly woken from whatever state he’s trapped in. Now that he’s bad in bed Meg leans up against the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom and scrubs at her eyes tiredly. She’s wiped not only from the labor of cleaning, drying, and manhandling Dean but from scrubbing the bathroom down afterwards. 

“You’re a pain in the ass.” She tells Dean, though there’s no real heat behind it. He doesn’t respond which she expected at this point, so she ignores him and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. There’s more cameras here than in the bathroom so she knows Castiel has a perfect view of her. Glaring at the nearest one she flips it off with both hands. “Fuck you!” She mouths for good measure before she finally pushes off from the door frame. 

Meg walks over to the bed and leans down beside Dean’s head. She reaches down and carefully brushes the hair back from his face, smiling softly at the way Dean nuzzles into her hand. She opens her mouth to say something but stops before the words can get out. She’s already gotten attached enough, there’s no need to make it worse on herself. With one last pet she steps away, a frown taking place of the smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says as she heads out of the room. 

Is she doing the right thing? She wonders as she stops and leans against the steel door once she’s shut it on the room. She doesn’t have a clue but for better or worse she’s determined to see this through until the end. Frown deepening, she pushes off the door and goes to see where Castiel is hiding. He has some explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes into heat thanks to Castiel mating him against his will. Meg finds him on the bathroom floor and does her best to help clean Dean up. Meg starts to have doubts about what her and Castiel are doing to Dean.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Vomit, severely depressed Dean. 
> 
> Also I'm not a medical expert by any means but I do not recommend trying to feed someone who hasn't eaten in quite a while chicken noodle soup like Meg does in this chapter.

He’s going to be sick. That’s the first coherent thought Dean has upon waking, but to his horror, he finds he can’t do anything about it. His bones feel like they’re made from lead, his skin a suffocating weight over top. Dean just barely manages to open equally heavily lidded eyes before it all goes to hell. Thin watery bile rises in his throat but he can’t move and there’s nowhere to go; Dean opens his mouth automatically and the mess pours down onto the bedding in front of his face. 

Unsurprisingly, it isn’t much. Food has been nothing more than a distant memory since he first came here and Dean can’t recall the last time he drank anything. He retches again and again, the motion making his stomach and throat burn despite nothing more than a thin watery mixture of saliva coming out. It’s painful and tears spring to his eyes, unbidden. 

For the first time in however many days he thinks longingly of his brother. _I wish Sam was here . . . _he thinks mournfully as he finally leans back with a gasp. His stomach still churns but there’s nothing left to come up. Sam would know what to do, or at the very least what to say, Dean considers as he lays there. He should be disgusted laying there so close to a puddle of vomit but he doesn’t have the energy to care about it. What’s the point anyway? The bedroom is silent around him as it always is and that just drives the point home of how alone Dean is now. Sam, Bobby, Benny--nobody was looking for him. They probably didn’t even care. The thought hurts, well more than Dean is willing to admit. He misses his family and his friends and fuck, he even misses work. _I don’t know what I did to deserve this. . . _Dean thinks as the tears begin to spill over, running hot and heavy down his face. _I hope everyone is safe. _It was already too late for him but with some luck Castiel wouldn’t target his family as well. Dean was more than willing to sacrifice himself in their stead. Considering they all thought he had up and ran, it was the least he could do . . .

~*~*~

The next time Dean wakes it’s to the delicious salty smell of chicken broth wafting under his nose. He blinks open gritty eyes to find Meg standing next to his bed holding, to his complete shock, a large white bowl that actually looked like it contained soup in it. “W-wha?” He slurs, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he stares. 

As he wakes more he can tell it isn’t a dream--that’s actual chicken noodle soup being held a good foot away from his face. It’s been so long since he had anything to eat Dean doesn’t know whether to laugh or to outright cry. “T-ttt-tease!” He stutters out, swallowing hard as he adjusts to a tongue that feels way too big for his mouth. What he wouldn’t give for just a small sip of the soup to ease the dryness in his mouth…

“Oh good! You’re awake!” Meg brightens when she notices him watching her and she can’t help but outright grin at the hungry way he’s looking at the soup she’s holding. “I brought you something.” More like she snuck him something; Castiel will be less than pleased if he finds out. “They called Castiel into work today so it’s just me and you and I thought you could use it.” She told Dean as she carefully lowered herself to crouch beside the bed. 

Was this really happening? Dean blinked slowly, still caught in the heavy fog of his tired brain as he stared at her. He was fairly sure he wasn’t imagining her--the bright red lounge pants and equally vibrant green tank top with the words ‘Better days are ahead’ was stand out even for a hallucination. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun that left wisps of hair hanging down but it was the look on her face that truly caught his attention. Instead of the quiet scorn Dean had come to associate with her she was looking at him so hopeful and earnest that he felt something inside him clench. “S-soup?” He asked shakily, still half-wondering if she would disappear in the blink of an eye.

"Chicken noodle." Meg confirms with shining, hopeful eyes. "It isn't much, just from a can, but hey, at least it's warm!" She tries to sound cheerful about it though the effect goes completely over Dean's head. Try as he might he can't wrap his head around what's happening here. It's been . . . well he doesn't know how long it's actually been but why now? After everything he's been put through thus far, why now? As much as he wants the soup, and make no doubt he does, Dean doesn't think he can trust it.

Trust was what got him into this mess in the first place--why would he ever fall for it again? Dean bites his bottom lip as he looks between Meg and the bowl then back again. Her look of hope goes straight through his chest and he has to look away. “Can’t.” He brokenly whispers through a bone-dry throat. He hopes he’s making the right decision. 

Was she seeing this right? Meg blinked at the back of Dean’s head, stunned into silence. In all the ways she had pictured things going she never would have imagined Dean would flat-out refuse to take the soup. “Dean, c’mon…” She sighed as she sat the bowl down on the floor beside her. “I know you gotta be hungry.”

Dean closed his eyes and didn’t bother with a reply. There was probably a whole host of things he could say but he just didn’t feel like it. Whatever small ray of defiance that had flared up in him was gone as quick as it’d come. _Please just go away! _He mentally begs though the words don’t make it out of his mouth. He struggles to even out his breathing, hoping she would take the hint and go along with him pretending to be asleep. Surprisingly it doesn’t take very long until he actually is.

“Dammit!” Meg cursed softly, her hands balling into fists on her thighs. It was in her nature to want to yank Dean back around to face her like a man instead of the broken thing he was. It’d be so easy to do and easier still to force that soup straight down his throat yet Meg doesn’t do either one. The thing is, she doesn’t want to hurt Dean. She already has by going along with things so far, Meg knows, but somewhere along the way she came down with a case of the feelings. It was a new thing--she’d never once gotten attached to any of the omegas Castiel had drug home and honestly it terrified her. Getting attached was dangerous, especially since she knew what Castiel was going to do to Dean in the end. To say it isn’t going to be pretty is an understatement. 

So what’s she doing here then? Meg wishes she knew. Sighing quietly she watches the steady rise and fall of Dean’s body as he slips off into sleep. She picks up the bowl and rises fluidly to her feet. “I’ll try again later.” She whispers, not wanting to wake him. 

~*~*~

Later, as it turns out comes and goes without Dean ever being aware of it. Sleep has become his safe haven, his refuge, and he’s barely surfaced from it. Why should he? Better to sleep than suffer, he thinks, drifting back under without fully being awake.

~*~*~

The downside to sleeping so much, as it turned out, was that Dean had no context for when something _did _happen. Case in point, he had roused to the sound of voices talking somewhere close by. 

“_Good god Meg_!” The first voice exclaimed, sounding distressed. “Are you kidding me?! THIS is your ‘little secret’?!” The voice rose in pitch, bordering on hysterical. “Please tell me this is your form of a sick joke.”

“Believe me, you have no idea how I wish it was.” The second voice was indeed Meg, though to Dean’s untrained ears she sounded . . . sad? “You know how Clarence is--you just can’t say no to him! It’s not like I had a choice here!”

“Didn’t have a--” The first voice sounded mortified. “Are you kidding me right now? Of course you had a choice! You could have left! Called the cops! Not went along with _kidnapping _someone!” There was a pause as the speaker took a breath, presumably to get themselves under control before continuing. “People have been looking for him for weeks now and you’re saying he’s been here the entire time?”

“You don’t know how Clarence can be.” Meg replied quietly, sounding resigned. Her scent was sad which made Dean’s nose wrinkle from the offending odor. “If I had tried to leave or call the cops or whatever else you think I’d be the one in that bed, not him.” She sighed, the sound long and deep. It echoed in the small confins of the room. “Look, I’m not saying I haven’t made mistakes here because obviously I have but that’s not the point. Are you going to help me with him or not?”

There was a pregnant pause as the first voice considered what they were going to do. Unconsciously Dean held his breath, waiting. He didn’t have the foggiest clue who they were talking about but he was curious despite himself.

“Okay.” The first voice said, sounding just as resigned as Meg did. “I’ll do it but only if you promise you’ll leave next. We get him safe and you’ll be gone. I want to hear you say it.”

The sour sad scent of Meg intensified leaving Dean struggling not to sneeze but he still caught her quiet voice when she said: “Okay.” All the air in Dean’s lungs exhaled in a quiet rush of relief. Despite her being complacent in whatever game Castiel was playing Dean still wished her the best. 

Now that the excitement was over, or so it seemed to Dean, he tuned out the actual words and just let their tones wash over him. They were quieter now and Dean didn’t resist as they pulled him back under into the welcome arms of sleep. _I’m going to miss Meg. . . _He thought as he let himself go.

~*~*~

When Dean finally rises from the depths again it’s to the sound of voices around him. They’re closer this time and it takes a good few seconds before Dean realizes that along with them there’s also hands that are touching him. 

Startled, his eyes pop open only to widen in surprise at seeing Hannah from the club next to his face. They’re kneeling on the floor yet their hands are on Dean, carefully smoothing his hair back, and nothing makes sense. “Mmmm!” He moans, voice lost to thirst and injury. What’s going on here? Is he still in the club? Could this all have been some kind of fever dream?

“Hey there handsome,” They say softly, one hand resuming the gentle stroking through Dean’s hair. “I bet you’re feeling uncomfortable, huh?” They ask and in another life Dean would have snorted because that’s an understatement if he’d ever heard one. Hannah must catch the meaning behind his look anyway for their face breaks into a big grin. “Right, stupid question, huh?” They say with a gentle laugh that’s music to Dean’s ears. He still doesn’t have a clue as to what’s going on--why they’re here in the first place--but he finds he doesn’t care. They’re here, and they’re touching him gently and really that’s all that matters in the moment. 

“Is he awake?” Meg’s voice pipes up from somewhere behind Dean. She sounds further away than Hannah which doesn’t make sense to Dean. His brow furrows as he tries to figure it out but he keeps getting distracted by Hannah. The careful petting feels so nice after being manhandled for so long that Dean keeps melting into it. He sighs softly, eyes fluttering closed.

“I thought he was but I think he’s drifting in and out.” Hannah confirms, craning their neck to peer over the bed to where Meg’s bent on the other side. “He seems to like being touched. I don’t think he realizes what’s going on.”

“It’s probably for the best.” Meg sighs as she fiddles with the cuffs binding Dean’s wrists. “I know we gotta get moving here but he needs all the rest he can get. He’s going to need it.” 

“He’s still rather warm.” Hannah replies as one of their hands drifts down to gently rest on Dean’s forehead. He makes a pleased sound though his eyes remain closed. “Are you sure he’s going to be able to handle it out there on his own?”

“Look.” Meg started, momentarily abandoning what she was doing to look over the bed at Hannah. “I know this is less than ideal and if I had any other ideas I’d absolutely wouldn’t turn him out into the cold but it’s all I got. Clarence will be back in two days, it’s going to have to be enough for Dean to get away otherwise. . .” She let the statement trail off as she frowned down at Dean. “The whole point of this is to save him. You said his brother has been looking for him?”

Hannah nodded, matching Meg’s frown with one of their own. The whole situation sucked but Meg was right; it was all they had. “He’s been searching everywhere nearly every day. He showed up at the club a couple of weeks ago and was asking all kinds of questions. Poor guy, he seems like he’s at the end of his rope.” They moved their hand down, stroking carefully over Dean’s bruised face. “I’ll take him as far as I can, just like we discussed.”

“Good.” Meg shot them a weak smile before she got back to work on the handcuffs. She wasn’t sure what would happen when Castiel eventually arrived home but she’d worry about it then. Getting Dean free and out of danger was what mattered now.

It took the better part of three hours for them to get Dean ready and out the door but Meg was relieved when he was. She leaned down, eyeing him worriedly where he was curled up into a ball on the backseat of Hannah’s car. In the dim light he looked so frail and weak bundled up in a pair of Castiel’s pajama pants and ratty old pullover hoodie. It’d been the best Meg had that wouldn’t immediately trigger Castiel’s suspicions. She just hoped it would be enough. “Drive safe.” She told Hannah as she straightened up. “Give me a call in a few days. Let me know if the package gets delivered to the right address?”

From their position in the front seat Hannah smiled sadly up at Meg. “I will.” They promised. “Keep yourself safe until then and get out as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting for you.” They glanced into the rearview mirror at Dean for a long moment before turning back to Meg. “We’d better get going.”

“Drive safe, both of you.” Meg told them, barely holding back a wave of tears that were threatening to escape. “I’ll be waiting for your call.” Then, before Hannah could see her cry, Meg turned and fled back towards the house. Behind her she heard the car start and pull out. 

She did not look back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Broken bones. Also this chapter may be a bit confusing to read. Don't worry, it's supposed to be that way as Dean is very disoriented/ill in this chapter.

It was so cold. . . Dean thought miserably as he slowly stumbled his way down the dark street. His whole body felt like lead, every step seemed harder than the last. His feet drug, catching alongside every crack in the pavement. He had no idea where he was or even where he was supposed to go. Casting back he vaguely recalled a warm car and Hannah saying something about Sam but everything else was a blur. Most things had been that way since he’d woken--there were large gaps in between moments Dean had little to no context for. Like now. Was Sam out here somewhere? Was he waiting for Dean? It didn’t make sense in Dean’s foggy mind. Did Hannah even know who his brother was? And if they did then surely Sam would have found him by now, wouldn’t he? Dean squinted through the dark but it was impossible to see much beyond his own face. The landscape of empty dark buildings surrounding him seemed to stretch on endlessly leaving Dean feeling more confused than before. He didn’t have a clue as to what time it was but it had to be late given he seemed to be the only one out.

The wind picked up causing Dean to shiver violently. The thin pajama pants, ratty hoodie, and worn out sneakers he’d woken up in had done little to deter the cold. Dean had learned that quite quick--Hannah had just barely left when Dean started shaking from the cold. That had been . . . fuck, he had no idea. It could have been yesterday for all that Dean knew. He didn’t think it’d been _quite _that long--surely he would have noticed it being day time--but who could say? 

The cold wasn’t helping him think either. He wrapped his arms around him the best he could and tried to burrow down into the hoodie. The shirt was two sizes too big and hung nearly down to Dean’s knees but it was the best protection he got. It was better than the pajama pants at any rate. Still, he couldn’t stay like this forever. He may have been half out of his mind but freezing to death was a real concern nevertheless. _I wish Sam was here! _Dean’s brother always seemed to know what to do, he’d surely know how to help him. Hell, just one hug from the giant moose would warm him up! Dean couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth as he imagined it and of course that was when everything went (more) to hell. He stumbled over an unseen crack in the sidewalk and went sprawling. With nothing there to catch him Dean went down hard. A sharp *crack!* split the air seconds before pain spiked up Dean’s right arm. Nausea followed on its heels and he lost the next few minutes dry retching into the night. 

_Oh god_, He thought when his brain was more or less coherent again. His guts were still churning heavily despite the fact there was nothing left in his system to come up. Dean didn’t think that’d matter much . . . he was fairly sure once he got a good look at his arm, something he was carefully avoiding, he’d puke again.

What was he supposed to do now? Dean didn’t have a clue and it wasn’t like there was anyone around to ask either. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves before slowly pushing his way up to sitting using his left arm. He was barely up all the way before he was dry retching again, the pain temporarily overriding his senses. Oh god, he was so, so screwed, wasn’t he? Even without seeing it Dean was sure it was broken. The sickening throbbing radiating out from the arm all but confirmed it. Now what? It was one thing to be out wandering the streets in the middle of the night and a whole ‘nother to do it with a broken bone. Despite Dean’s fervent hopes help didn’t magically materialize out of thin air which meant he had no choice but to keep going. With his right arm carefully tucked up against his chest he picked a direction and continued to walk.

**~*~*~**

Hours passed and it just grew colder. The night seemed to deepen around Dean as he began stumbling more and more. He was sure he was walking in circles but since he couldn’t remember where he started or where he was headed he couldn’t make himself stop. All the streets look the same with the same empty buildings bearing down on him. It felt like suffocating. Dean continued to wander around and around until he felt on the verge of collapse. The thought terrifies him--what if he fell again? What if he broke his other arm? Or worse, his leg? The thought no sooner crossed his mind when he stumbled yet again. Swearing, he managed to catch himself before he hit the ground but it was a close thing. This settled it: he needed to rest, but where? 

Lifting his head he looked around, frowning at all the nothingness around him. He could possibly try breaking into one of the buildings but honestly Dean didn’t feel up to the task. Not to mention it would probably bring law enforcement of some kind down on his head and then where would he be? He couldn't currently string a sentence together but he had a feeling the cops would be interested in getting ahold of him. And what about Hannah? Dean had promised them, at least he figured he did since he couldn’t remember, that he’d stay away from everyone else. 

Mind made up, he kept on going. There, just shy of a hundred feet of him was another alley jutting back between two older style brick buildings. The buildings weren’t what caught Dean’s eye though; no, it was the giant green metal dumpster situated midway down the alley. While it was hardly his first choice of accommodations it was looking better and better by the moment. Unconsciously Dean found himself drawn towards it like a moth to the flame. 

Up close, however, Dean regretted his decision. The dumpster was just as cold as he was and the smell made him gag. _Probably a good thing I don’t have anything left to throw up… _He thought wearily as he carefully hunched down in the dumpster’s shadow. It was uncomfortable as hell--the cold rough ground soaked through the thin pajama pants sending shivers up and down Dean’s spine. Pulling his knees in towards his chest he curled up in as small a ball as possible. It wasn’t the Ritz (not by a long shot) but hopefully it would do to make it through the night. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and hoped for sleep to take him.

**~*~*~**

Sleep must have claimed him for the next time Dean opened his eyes the sky was starting to lighten with the coming dawn. Feeling more than half frozen he slowly uncurls himself from the dumpster and makes to stand. To his profound relief he doesn’t feel as shaky as he did the night before as he slowly makes his way to the mouth of the alley. Dean stops before he reaches the opening, however, and stares, dumbstruck. The world had awoken while he was sleeping apparently for where there was no one around the night before the streets are now alive with people. 

Given the early hour there isn’t a lot of people out but there’s enough that Dean finds himself drawing back into the alley before he realizes what he’s doing. _Where did they all come from_? He wondered, feeling dazed. Logically it makes sense--surely all the buildings have workers that work in them, but still. It’s a shock. The question is: what does he do now? Does he stay or does he go? Should he find someone and ask for help or just stay away like Hannah wanted? 

Dean sighs and closes his eyes, weary beyond words. There’s too many questions with not enough answers and he just can’t take it. He longs for a warm bed with his comfortable nest and for the rest of the world to just go away. Is that too much to ask? _Apparently it is_, he thinks, bitter, as he heads back to the dumpster. He hadn’t planned on spending quality time there but there’s no other options. He curls back up into the same position he was the night before, pulling in tighter. The less that can be seen of him the better. Hopefully if anyone does see him they’ll just think he’s a street person rather than a semi-famous one who was kidnapped and tortured against their will. . . 

**~*~*~**

The majority of the day is spent asleep. Unfortunately Dean can’t even call it an escape for nightmares plague him at every turn. From dreams of Castiel to dreams of the supernatural horrors they faced when filming the show, it all ran the gamut in Dean’s mind. Being awake wasn’t much better--he felt weak and shaky and he was hungry enough that he very nearly considered digging through the dumpster for something to put in his stomach. If it wasn’t for his arm, which was nearly transcendent from the pain, he probably would have.

Needless to say, by the time night fell again Dean was far from being a happy camper. Getting up was far harder the second time around; all his muscles and joints had locked up thanks to the cold. They burned from the cold and more than once Dean thought he was going to fall before he got to standing again. He learned his lesson--once he got moving he kept on going. He left the alley, and after picking a direction at random he began to walk. 

Leaving the town behind Dean found himself wandering alongside a back street lined with houses every few feet. It was quiet and quaint and felt like a balm to his frayed nerves. He wandered from there onto another nearly identical only to stop dead at the edge of someone’s yard. There, laying half forgotten in a tangle of bushes was the most beautiful thing Dean could ask for: a giant bright blue tarp. It was the closest thing to a blanket that the wild could offer and Dean wanted it. Taking the chance, he looked to see if there was anyone watching before he slipped into the yard. Staying hunched and ready to run at a moment’s notice, Dean carefully picked his way over to the tarp. It was tangled up good, which was probably why it’d just been left, but Dean hardly cared. It wasn’t easy moving with one arm but he carefully worked the tarp free.

Once he has it in his arm Dean doesn’t waste any time. He books it out of the yard and down the street as fast as his wobbling legs will carry him. It isn’t until he’s an entire street over that he finally gives in and wraps himself up in the tarp. While it doesn’t provide any warmth it stops the chill from biting through his clothes and it’s enough of a relief Dean nearly cries from it. 

Dean wanders like that for a while, until exhaustion finally catches up with him. It hits him all at once with the fineness of being hit in the head with a hammer and sends him stumbling. He makes it all of two steps before he trips over his own feet and goes down. It hurts but unlike last time nothing appears to be broken. Still, he can’t get back up. Exhaustion sinks its teeth into him and doesn’t let go. Too tired to fight it, Dean does what anyone would in his position--he pulls the tarp over him and curls up. He’s tired and hurting and just wants to rest. Surely a few minutes can’t hurt, right? 

_I’ll keep going as soon as I get up… _He promises himself as his eyes slip closed. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: There's several paragraphs towards the end that have graphic descriptions of injury and illness that may be upsetting.
> 
> Please read the brief description in the end notes if you wish to skip it.

For Sam, running had always been a calming activity—it was a way to drop all the stress of the world for a while and just _be_. There was something deeply primal about it; something raw that appeased to his inner alpha. Even now as he pounded down the sidewalk in the early hours of the morning Sam could feel his alpha rumbling in pure pleasure. While most people—Dean included—would think Sam was crazy for going jogging in the middle of February the crisp cool air revived him. And if it wasn’t snowing, which wasn’t supposed to happen until the following week, Sam didn’t see where the problem was.

His lungs burned as he took in the cold air, each exhale coming out in a visible puff of white smoke. He’d been at it for a while now—the heaviness (and smell) of his sweat dampened clothes could attest—but he had no intention of stopping any time soon. Why would he? Right now all Sam had _was _running. It’d been almost three months since Dean had went missing and neither Sam nor the local police had any leads in finding him. It was like his brother had up and disappeared without a trace! The sheer idea that Dean had done that, up and run like that, pissed Sam off to no end. It was entirely plausible that Dean had done so, but Sam didn’t want to believe it. Why now? Why up and disappear without saying anything? To Sam? Or Bobby? Or Benny? And what about Castiel?! Sam didn’t like prying into his brother’s relationships, but it was clear to everyone that there was a deep connection between the alpha and the omega despite their short engagement. Castiel had even confided in Sam that he was thinking of asking Dean to be his mate!

Sam huffed irritably and came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He never thought he’d see the day where Dean would take a mate and now that he was so close to having one he was just gone? It just didn’t make sense! Bobby and Benny both had tried talking sense into him saying Dean would come back when he was ready, but Sam just didn’t buy it. Something was wrong, and he was determined to find out what.

Until then, Sam was going to keep running. It wasn’t like there was anything else keeping him occupied: since they were down a leading man production on the show had ground to a halt until the writers could figure out how to explain “Jensen’s” sudden absence. Given the way the season had been going so far Sam wasn’t sure how they were going to pull something out of thin air, and frankly he didn’t envy them the job. Especially since it seemed like Dean’s Jensen character and Castiel’s Misha could possible have a love connection in the future considering the chemistry between the two on screen…

Sam shook his head, ignoring the way his sweat-drenched hair whipped around to smack him in the face. Dean was ruining everything; the show, Sam’s life, and not to mention his own. Where the hell could he have gone?! Wherever he was Sam hoped he was sure as fuck enjoying it because once Sam caught up to him, there was going to be definite hell to pay.

With the show shut down everyone had gone their separate ways for the time being. Even Castiel, who had another house somewhere out of state, had decided to go back home for now. While Sam couldn’t blame him, especially after the man went on about how his housekeeper had been having trouble with a new puppy, he had foolishly hoped the other alpha would stay. It was childish, but Sam didn’t like being alone. He never had—even as a pup Dean had always been there even when their father hadn’t been. It wasn’t like Sam had been completely abandoned, either. He still had his beautiful mate Ruby, and both Bobby and Benny lived close enough they were a short drive away, but it wasn’t the same. Dean was the glue that held everyone together, Sam included.

He sighed loudly, eyes tracking the way his breath puffed out in front of him like smoke. He looked both ways up and down the street, though he needn’t have bothered. This early in the morning most of the residents had already left for work or were happily sleeping in. Sam wished he was one of the latter. Picking a direction at random, he took off down a side street, barely paying any attention as he ran. His music pounded through the earbuds nestled in his ears, the heavy upbeat pop tunes a good counter to the way his feet hit the pavement. He needed to stop dwelling; Sam knew. All he was doing was running himself crazy thinking about Dean and it wasn’t doing anyone a lick of good. He’d gotten snappy and irritable and had very nearly come to blows with Ruby a few nights ago because he couldn’t contain his temper any longer. Sam’s going out and running had been her idea…though Sam couldn’t escape the hot flush of embarrassment as he recalled the way her ‘suggestion’ had come with a barely veiled threat. He didn’t like to think that he was one of those ‘cowed’ alphas that bowed down to whatever their omegas wanted, but Sam knew the truth. He was well and truly whipped and there was no other way he’d have rather been.

Sam was still shaking his head, partially amused at himself, when he turned on yet another back street. This wasn’t a direction he normally took, and for a moment he was caught off guard by the foreign landscape. _Well, you needed a distraction! _He thought, and mentally shrugged his shoulders as he started down the street. The houses were further apart here with most surrounded by large privacy fences that varied in color. Why anyone needed a privacy fence when the houses were already set quite a distance from the main road, Sam had no idea. Nor had he realized they came in so many colors. He tore past one in white, then another in yellow, and further down was one in green, another in blue, and so on. _Weirdos! _Sam thought as he sprinted past, the fences becoming a blur of color in his periphery.

Ten minutes later Sam’s on his way back with his music off and earbuds dangling, huffing along at a nice leisurely pace when he hears it: a low pitiful moaning that sounds like a wounded animal. _What in the world? _He frowns and comes to a stop right there in the middle of the street. At first glance nothing seems amiss—it’s still on the early side and the neighborhood seems peaceful. In the distance Sam spots a large lump of fur on someone’s porch, probably someone’s pet dog, but it doesn’t appear to be in distress.

“C’mon Sam, get a grip!” He gripes out loud, rolling his eyes at himself. All this thinking of Dean has gotten him worked up, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong here! Disgusted with himself he’s about to walk away when the breeze picks up again. It’s just cold enough to make him shiver in his heavily sweat-damp clothes, and he’s more than ready to get out of there and into the nearest hot shower when he hears it again. A high-pitched whimper full of pain that makes Sam’s hair stand on end to hear. Whatever’s making it is obviously badly hurting and Sam turns instinctively towards it.

Ah-ha! There! Two houses down from where he’s standing there’s yet another privacy fence, though unlike the others it’s not been painted and is quite worn. Sam had given the place a berth when he went running past the first time, a general sense of unease guiding him, but now he found himself edging closer. Aside from the complete lack of a paint job to Sam’s amazement there’s also something that doesn’t fit in laying right in front a section of the fence: a bright blue tarp puffed up into a suspicious sized lump.

“How the fuck did I miss _that_?!” Sam mutters to himself, completely gob smacked. He approaches the tarp cautiously; just because he’s a giant of an alpha doesn’t mean he’s dumb. He’d rather not have to explain to the local ER, or worse, to Ruby, how he got rabies or some other infections disease from some wild animal. The closer he gets the more obvious that there's something hiding under the tarp becomes. It's a big lump, maybe a dog or an extremely large cat. Whatever it is has been making near continuous whimpering little grunts of pain like it just can't seem to stop. He finally pauses when he draws up beside it, one hand fumbling in the pocket of his hoodie for his phone. The smart thing would have been to call animal control to come deal with this, but ah well. It's too late now and since he's here he might as well see what he's dealing with. One large hand comes down to grasp the edge of the tarp where it'd been blowing loose in the wind, and with a deep breath, Sam pulled.

It's not an animal. That's the first thing that flashes through Sam’s mind as he stands there, paralyzed in shock at what he's seeing. He doesn't know what he's seeing. Hell, he can't believe what he's seeing! The creature making such pitiful sounds, still half hidden under the tarp for protection is **_Dean_**. His brother. His erstwhile wayward _brother_ who’s been missing for months now! Sam stands frozen, one hand clamped down tightly on the corner of the tarp, shocked. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream for help or cry. In the end he doesn’t do any of them, just remains standing and stares down at his brother with wide, wet eyes.

“Dean!” He finally breathes out, horror and relief all wrapped around that one word as he falls to his knees beside his brother’s body. Sam wants so badly to touch him, but he doesn’t. _He looks like shit! _Sam thinks, somewhat hysterically. It’s a terrible thing to think, yet it’s so true Sam can’t even begin to feel bad about it. Dean’s thin, unnaturally so, and dressed in a pair of ratty sweatpants and hoodie that look at least two sizes too big. God, he can’t believe it’s really him! There’s no mistaking it though; the sandy blonde locks plastered to the forehead, the jut of his jaw, the angle of his nose. Dean’s curled up into a fetal position, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and he’s still issuing broken pained noises like he just can’t stop. He doesn’t seem aware that Sam’s even there, his eyes are tightly closed, and he doesn’t even twitch as Sam slowly uncovers more of him.

Sam must stop halfway and fights back a gag. Dean is absolutely filthy in every respect of the word. From this close the smell hits Sam with all the finesse of a freight train: sweat and dirt, vomit and piss, and something far more sinister that speaks of festering wounds waft up from Dean in a terrible bouquet. It’s beyond terrible and Sam suddenly realizes how out of his depth he is here. He may have portrayed a medical personal on screen during that one confusing episode, but he has no medical training at all to fall back on.

“What do I do?” He whispers as he kneels there, unable to look away from Dean’s body. His brother has no answers, just whimpers and shivers in pain Sam can’t even begin to comprehend. It breaks something deep within the alpha’s heart, to see his omega brother hurting so bad, and with great reluctance he forces himself back to standing. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and sparing one more glance at Dean, he walks a few steps away. His fingers dial on autopilot since most of his attention is still firmly on Dean, and Sam feels ready to cry when the voice in his ear announces: “911 What is your emergency?”

Sam explains it all in a rush: Dean’s disappearance, Sam finding him here in the street, the way he’s so still and thin and dirty…. By the time the operator says there’s help on the way Sam feels like he’s just barely hanging on to his sanity. He crosses the few steps back towards his brother and sinks down right there uncaring of the ugly blend of smells or the cold. The voice on the phone cautioned him against touching his brother so Sam won’t but he needs to be near him.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” He tells the lump, and carefully lays the tarp back over his shivering brother. It pangs Sam to do so but there’s nothing out here to cover Dean with, and he sure as hell isn’t leaving him long enough to go knocking on doors to see if anyone’s home. If Sam has it his way he’s not letting Dean out of his sight for a long time to come. He settles in, back resting lightly up against the fence, to wait for the paramedics.

“It’s going to be okay Dean.” Sam says, proud of the way his voice doesn’t crack with all the emotion he feels. “I promise. I’m going to make sure everything is okay.” More than anything he must believe it to be true. Come hell or high-water Sam’s determined his brother will be okay. One way or the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam finds Dean outside along a fence covered with a tarp. Dean is in very bad condition and unresponsive. Sam calls for an ambulance.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Brief description of injuries and Sam has an anxiety attack

_ This is wrong _ . Sam thinks, frowning, from his position just outside the door to Dean’s hospital room. He’s been holding his lone vigil here and in the waiting room for hours now, yet nobody has really told him a damn thing about what happened to his brother. _This whole situation is all wrong! _He thinks as he turns, completing the small circuit he started outside the doorway, and comes to a stop just off to the right side. They had allowed him into the room earlier, but he’d been pushed out several minutes ago by some of the nurses so they could get Dean cleaned up. Sam didn’t really get it since Dean looked like he’d been cleaned thoroughly before being brought into the room, but who was he to argue? Besides, if he angled himself just right he could still see what was going on to an extent. He did so now, feeling smug as he caught a glimpse of Dean’s face. It wasn’t the best view since the nurses had closed the curtains surrounding the bed as well but there’s just enough of a gap that Sam could get a fleeting look inside.

What he sees doesn’t make him feel any better. Dean’s sound asleep, dead to the world, and if not for the presence of the oxygen tube still carefully looped up under his nose Sam would worry that he had died. As it is Dean doesn’t look to be too many steps above it. What skin that can be seen between the bandages and extensive bruising is pallid and there’s a smudge of deep purplish bruising underneath his right eye. The left is an utter mess of ugly bruising and has swelled completely shut. Sam can feel a low growl start in his throat as his eyes travel downwards, taking note of the way Dean’s lower lip is split and swollen as well and the tell-tale bruising around his chin where someone—whoever the bastard was that hurt him—had roughly grabbed him.

Sadly, all that is just the tip of the iceberg as far as Dean’s injuries go. Sam was fairly sure he was being kept in the dark about most of them but he had a sick feeling it extended far beyond the identical bloodied bruising around his both of his brother’s wrists. The worst of it, in Sam’s opinion, is the large swath of bandages covering near the entirety of his brother’s neck on the left side. Sam hadn’t gotten to see what laid underneath those bandages though he had a pretty good idea and it painted a picture he didn’t want to think about, let alone see. Sam growled low in his throat; hackles raised as he envisioned what he’d do to the bastard alpha who dared harm Dean. Just from what he’d seen alone he was ready to tear the offending alpha limb from limb without thinking twice.

“Sir!” A stern voice sharply cuts through his little daydream, bringing Sam back down to reality. He startles, cutting off mid-growl to find the head nurse for the unit standing a few feet away. The woman was dark skinned and older than most of the other nurses Sam had seen thus far though the way she was eyeing him made it clear she wasn’t one to mess around with. “Boy, if you can’t control yourself I’ll toss you out of here!” She warned, her tone brooking no argument.

Alpha though he was, Sam knew a threat when he saw one. He cowed, all display of aggression fading away to be replaced with curdling embarrassment. As much as he wanted to avenge his brother—who probably wouldn’t thank him for it—Sam hadn’t meant to let himself get so far out of control. “I’m sorry,” He said, meaning it. “I’ll try harder to control myself.” He didn’t know how much he could count on that being true, but it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?

The nurse eyeballed him like he was a particularly interesting bug before finally nodding her assessment. “Just see that you do.” She told him, her gaze softening as she looked past him at the closed door to Dean’s room. If Sam didn’t know better he’d swear she was staring through the door with the way her dark gaze was fixed upon it. “Your brother needs you here.” She told him after a moment, turning to look at Sam in the eyes. “He’s been through a lot, your brother, and he’ll need all the help he can get in the coming days.”

Her words were weighted and ominous; Sam felt a shiver run up his spine as he listened. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.” And that was the truth—Sam was determined to be so far up his brother’s butt he’d be calling him a suppository. Whether it was the look in his eyes or the ringing truth in his words, the nurse seemed to be appeased. While she didn’t come out and smile there was a twinkling look in her eyes as she regarded him. Whatever else she was going to say, however, was lost as the door to Dean’s room opened behind Sam.

He stepped back to allow the nurses room to get out…and felt the blood drain from his face as he caught sight of what they were carrying. Each of them had a large bundle of bedclothes that positively  reeked with distressed omega pheromones. The scent hit Sam with all the force of a sledgehammer to the head and he reeled backwards from the onslaught. Distantly he took notes of the stains—a terrible mix of blood and other bodily fluids he didn’t want to think about—and before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Sam turned tail and ran.

He could hear a commotion start up behind him along with several different voices calling his name, but he didn’t turn to look. He didn’t stop either; he just kept going. He let memory guide his way, twisting and turning down one hallway and then another before he finally reached the door for the stairs. He crashed through it at a dead run and would have kept on going if not for the large railing blocking his way.

Sam collapsed against the thick metal rail and clung on for dear life, wishing the world would stop turning. He felt like the rug had been ripped out from under his feet, which in a way, had been. For a good deal of his life Sam had been dependent on Dean and never once had Sam considered the reverse happening. Now that it had, he was, at the lack of a better word at a loss. He wasn’t a caregiver—how was he supposed to make sure Dean received the care he’d undoubtedly need?

The stairwell blurred around him as tears well up in his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do? He groaned, defeated. He had half a mind to bang his head against the railing for all the good that would do. It’d surely hurt like hell but what was a little (or a big) headache compared to the hurt Dean had to be feeling right now?

“Damn it!” Sam shouted, relishing the way his voice echoed in the empty stairway. It felt like being heard despite there being no one there to hear it. He sighed and shifted and scrubbed a hand harshly down his face. He was being childish—off crying alone because he was putting his needs before his brig brother’s…just like he always had. Ugh. Sam huffed, disgusted with himself. As appealing as it currently was, he couldn’t hide away in the stairs forever and Sam knew it.

Dropping his hand back to the railing he sighed and looked around the stairwell for inspiration. There wasn’t a whole lot to see—the walls were plain white painted concrete, and aside from small deep dark blue signs indicating that indicated the levels, they were bare. He turned to look at the door he’d come through, eyeing the ‘Level 5’ sign apathetically. 

Before he could decide on whether to go up or down his stomach gave a loud rumble that dully echoed in the huge space. “I guess that answers that,” he muttered to himself as he moved towards the staircase leading downwards. The idea of eating while Dean was still unconscious in his room made Sam’s stomach twinge unpleasantly. _ Maybe it will help, _he thought, though he doubted it. His problems were bigger than a simple cafeteria meal could fix.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter is by Sissyray84

“What in the  _ hell _ is that?”

As far as greetings went Dean’s raspy growl wasn’t exactly what one would call a standard one, but after not hearing his brother’s voice for six days Sam was overjoyed. He made no attempt at hiding it either, practically beaming as he held out the cause of his brother’s incredulity: a medium sized light brown teddy bear. “What? You haven’t seen a teddy bear before?” Sam asked, mock seriously, though his grin didn’t fade in the slightest. “It reminded me of you!”

“I—It—you!” Dean spluttered in shock; eyes glued to the stuffed menace in his younger brother’s hands as he moved further into the room. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what a teddy bear was for crying out loud but that thing Sam was holding wasn’t  just a plain teddy bear! Oh no. The bear in his brother’s arms was medium sized, tan, and had round black eyes and a big black nose with an open smiling mouth. It was cute, if you were evil like Sam most definitely was, but to Dean it was a menace and he wanted no part of it! “How?” He asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the bear long enough to glower at the shit-eating grin on Sam’s face.

This was so good. Sam couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he walked towards the bed and he was suddenly thankful Dean had been moved downstairs to a room of his own. He had figured Dean wouldn’t take the bear well but this was even better than Sam could have ever thought of. “I got it at the gift shop!” He declared, proud as a peacock as he made the bear do a little wiggle in the air. “Don’t you like it?”

“Don’t I…NO!” Dean burst out, rising off the bed in his indignation. He only got a few inches before the various tubes and wires he was hooked up to, not to mention the pain, put him back down. “I don’t even know how you can stand to touch it!” His gaze flitted between Sam and the bear as they moved in closer and he shook his head. “Take it away!”

“Aww, c’mon. It’s just a teddy bear!” Sam sing-songed as he leaned forward and gently deposited the bear beside Dean’s left side in one fell swoop. It laid there cutely, it’s smiling face fixed up at Sam, and he grinned widely down at the picture Dean and the bear made. “Don’t you just want to  _ snuggle _ it?”

Dean yelped and scooted as far away as he could get, which was only about two inches. He glared down at his new bedmate torn between the urge to pick up the bear and throw it as far as he could and not wanting to even touch the vile thing. “No I don’t want to ‘snuggle’ it!” He whined like the mature adult he was. “You know I hate the Snuggle bear! I’d rather torch the bastard!”

“But he’s really soft!” Sam needled, knowing he was treading a thin line and loving every moment of it. “Just give him a squeeze, I promise you’ll enjoy it!” He didn’t figure Dean would actually do it but he couldn’t resist winding his brother up. It was so good to see him not only awake but alert Sam’s heart felt like a huge weight had been lifted from it.

“I’m not doing it Sam!” Dean pouted, crossing his arms the best he could since he was still hooked up to an IV on his left side and his right arm was encased in a bright blue cast from his wrist clear up to his elbow. “You can’t make me!”

That was a challenge if he’d ever heard one! Sam leaned down, fully intending to pick up the Snuggle bear and shove it in his brother’s face when a third voice broke into their moment: “Oh what a cute bear!” Sam straightened so fast his head spun and turned to find a smiling nurse Jessica behind him. He blushed red-hot and skootched away from the bed as smoothly as possible, which wasn’t very smooth. “It's Snuggle bear!” He offered up unhelpfully, hoping to get her attention on the bear rather than him. “Like from the commercials!”

“It’s evil!” Dean piped up from the bed even as he carefully moved one finger to poke at the teddy bear. Oh. He was startled to find out it really was as soft as Sam had said and he found himself blinking down at it in surprise. While Dean didn’t always go for typical omega things he did harbor a secret love towards soft things and suddenly squeezing the bear didn’t seem like that bad of an idea, even if it was the dreaded Snuggle bear.

Above Dean’s head Sam and the nurse were watching him, each with matching grins, though Jessica’s was subtler of the two. “It’s always good to have a comforting object with you while in the hospital.” She said diplomatically as she reached down to give the bear a gentle pat on the head. “Stuffed animals aren’t just for pups you know!”

Dean was speechless, tracking Jessica’s movements as she patted the bear. Sam meanwhile thought he was going to bust something with the way he was desperately trying to hold back his laughter. “He kind of looks like a disgruntled pup!” Sam burst out, sounding totally gleeful.

“I do not!” Dean protested though it did absolutely nothing to help his case. He scowled down at the bear. “This is all your fault.” He told it, choosing to ignore the way Sam was surely smirking at him. Even the bear didn’t seem cowed; it just continued to smile up at him happily.

“You’re adorable!” Jessica giggled, though it was hard to tell if she talking to Dean or talking to the bear. “Are you still feeling up for a ride? I know you mentioned wanting to get some fresh air earlier.”

It was like a switch had been flicked with the way Dean perked up instantly, eyes alight. “Oh god yes,” he enthused, doing his damndest to hide the exhaustion creeping into his voice. He was getting tired—just bantering back and forth with Sam was more active than he’d done in quite some time—but he wanted to be out in the fresh air. The thought of getting out of here, even temporarily, was enough to make him want to beg.

Jessica didn’t laugh at him, for which Dean was grateful, though she did smile down at him. “As long as you feel up to it, I’ve got permission to take you out for a little while.” She said, already moving back to the door. “I just have to grab the wheelchair and we’ll get you ready to go!”

As it turned out getting Dean ready to go outside wasn’t as simple as the nurse had made it seem. There was a process involved, mostly consisting of things being unhooked and wires and tubes moved, and it was, frankly, ridiculous if you asked Dean. By the time he was finally settled in the wheelchair with a blanket covering him to ward off the chill he was so tired he was ready to go back to bed! He blinked heavy-lidded eyes up at Jessica as she finally stopped fussing with the equipment and stood back.

“You look ready to me!” She proclaimed to Dean before turning to look at Sam, who’d been standing by out of the way. “They’ve given me permission to take him out on the terrace beside the café. It shouldn’t be too busy this time of day, so we should be able to find a good spot.”

“Sounds good.” Sam agreed as he moved behind the wheelchair. “We just need to get one more thing and then we’ll be good to go.” He said, grinning cheekily as he leaned over the bed and snagged the dreaded Snuggle bear from the depths of the sheets. “Here Dean, you can’t forget your new friend!” He reached over the back of the chair and carefully situates the bear in beside Dean. Before his brother could protest Sam straightened up and took hold of the wheelchair’s handles. “Shall we?” He tipped his head to Jessica, waving for her to lead the way.

Several minutes, and two awkward elevator rides later the trio found themselves moving through a large café area that smelled heavily of coffee and freshly baked sweets. Dean, who was close to dozing off, hummed dreamily at the combined rich smells. It’d been so long since he’d tasted coffee he could practically taste it from the smell alone. Unfortunately they didn’t linger, instead skirting the far side of the café to reach the heavy windowed wooden door that opened onto the terrace.

The terrace was a long open concrete balcony with large square brick pillars that stretched the length of the hospital front. It provided a good view of the parking lot from over the thick edge and was dotted randomly with black wire tables with attached bench seats as well as large black trash cans. It was quiet, and blessedly empty.

The fresh air was as good as a slap to the face in waking Dean up. He blinked heavy eyes open, taking a deep breath of the cool air. While it still hadn’t snowed the air was still nice and crisp and after being trapped inside for so long it was perfect in Dean’s opinion. He drank it in like a man dying of thirst, practically purring his contentment.

“This is nice!” Sam commented, echoing his brother’s quiet delight. He pushed the chair over to the nearest table and took a seat, angling around so he could see Dean properly. “What do you think?”

“It’s good.” Dean mumbled, still veering on the side of sleep more than awake. He fiddled with the bear in his lap, stroking it absentmindedly. The softness of it really was soothing on his nerves—not that he’d ever admit that out loud to Sam. He was already going to be insufferable as it was once he caught Dean touching the stuffed animal, there was no need to add more fuel to that fire.

Off to the side Jessica grinned as she watched the brothers. Catching Sam’s eye she made a backward jerking motion with her thumb, pointing at the café. Seeing Sam’s understanding nod, she turned and slipped back through the door into the building. While she should have stayed with them she couldn’t see where it’d hurt to give them some alone time for say, about as long as it took her to drink a cup of coffee, Besides, the café had large windows that showed straight out to the terrace with tables situated for the perfect view so they’d still be in her sight.

Seeing Sam nod and hearing the café door open and close a moment later equaled out to their watcher being gone which meant it was time to get this show on the road. “You’re hovering.” Dean told his brother with a frown. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m not hovering!” Sam shot back with a scowl though he quickly dropped it. “What do you want me to say, Dean?” He asked tiredly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair irritably. “You were gone for nearly three months man. Everyone thought you’d left town!”

“Cut and run, huh?” Dean didn’t sound surprised but his scent was sad. “I would have told you,” he said quietly. “If I had… You know I didn’t, right?”

“Hey, no. No. Don’t do that!” Sam said, alarmed by the distress his brother was unintentionally putting out. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.  _ Fuck”! _ He tugged on his hair, feeling distressed. He hadn’t meant to upset Dean, especially not right out of the get-go. “I know you man. I knew you wouldn’t up and run for the hills like that!”

“I’m glad.” Dean said quietly, hating at how wet the words had come out sounding. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right words before timidly asking: “…Does Bobby know? That you found me?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but he needed to hear it anyway.

“Bobby knows,” Sam said gently, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. It wasn’t very far off the mark, he supposed, given all his brother had been through. “He was here earlier when you were asleep. He said he’ll come back when you’re awake next time. He was glad to see you’re safe.”

Dean flushed, embarrassed that Bobby had seen him in such a weakened state. It was stupid, really, but Dean had always tried his best to prove he was as strong and as tough as any alpha out there. He was sure Bobby knew it was a crock of shit but the older man had humored him nevertheless. Mixed in with the embarrassment was a thin thread of pleasure at knowing Bobby had come to visit him in the first place. So far Sam had been the only visitor he’d known so to find out Bobby had been there as well soothed something deep within Dean.

“What about Ruby?” He finally asked when it felt like the silence was starting to stretch too long in between them. Sam’s mate wasn’t Dean’s favorite person in the world but he’d warmed up to her some over the years her and Sam had been together. “Does she know?”

“She knows you’re safe and in the hospital.” Sam soothed, leaning forward enough to lay a comforting hand on Dean’s knee. “I didn’t tell her anything else, I promise.”

Dean didn’t say anything right away, instead choosing to direct his attention to the bear sitting in the chair with him. He rubbed the fingers of his good hand over it’s fur slowly, letting the soft feel of it soothe the growing lump in his throat. “And Benny?”

Sam watched his brother sadly, unable to ignore the pang in his chest at how fuckin’ devastated Dean looked in that moment. Dean had always been larger than life to him but now he reminded Sam of a deflated balloon and he felt helpless to help him. “He’s just the same as Ruby; he knows you’re safe and in the hospital. He wanted to visit but the nurses said it was best to just stick with family for the time being.”

Dean nodded, the relief on his face palpable. He thought of Benny like a brother yet he wasn’t ready to face up to the other man. He didn’t know why, exactly, especially since Benny hadn’t done a thing to him, but Dean couldn’t get over the feeling. He just chalked it up to his brain being as broken as the rest of him, now. He was weak and broken and if Castiel ever showed back up it’d take no effort at all for the alpha to steal him back again…

Dean didn’t know when he’d started crying in earnest but the sudden slide of hot wetness on his face jolted him back into reality. He blinked back his thoughts to find himself staring at his brother through a haze of tears that he couldn’t stem. He’d never been much for crying but now it was like he couldn’t stop. It should have been humiliating but Dean didn’t have the energy to care. What was the point, anyway? It wasn’t like Sam hadn’t seen him cry before.

Sam had seen him cry before, yeah, but it’d been so long since he’d witnessed it in real time the sight made his heart freeze in his chest. He didn’t wait he spread his arms and leaned in, enveloping his brother in a giant hug. “It’s okay. I got ya.” He held on as tight as he dared, hoping he didn’t hurt Dean. If Sam had his way no one was going to hurt Dean again. “I got ya,”

Dean held on just as tightly, uncaring of the way the stretch made his body ache with the strain. There would probably be hell to pay later but he didn’t care; it was worth it. He’d had enough hurting for a lifetime already—now he wanted comfort. He was grateful for Sam; not only had his brother been staying at the hospital as long as they’d allow him but he hadn’t pushed for details on what had happened to Dean. The story would come out eventually, Dean wasn’t naive to think he could hide it forever, but he was glad he wasn’t being forced into it right now.

He felt too raw; like someone had taken a spoon and hollowed him out inside.  _ Maybe Cas did…  _ Dean thought sadly, his scent souring along with his mood. Considering the alpha had chained him like an animal and then raped and beaten him nearly senseless Dean wouldn’t have been surprised. He leaned against Sam tiredly, his tears slowing. Exhaustion hung over him like a leaded cloud, weighing him down.

Sensing the change, not only to Dean’s scent but to the energy around him, Sam leaned back just far enough to get a good look at his brother’s face. He didn’t like what he saw—Dean’s face was flushed and stained with tear-tracks and overall he looked miserable. “How about we go back in?”

Dean nodded into his brother’s shoulder, though he didn’t make any attempt to move away. Sam smelled like fruit (something Dean had never let him hear the end of when they were growing up) but more importantly he smelled like home. Safety. He breathed the scent in deeply, letting it soak into his bones. Dean was just so unbelievably tired in a way that he couldn’t fully comprehend.  _ Soul weary _ , his brain supplied and it seemed a fitting description as any. The rest of him was beaten up and weary so why not his soul as well?

It took a whole lot of mental prodding on his part, but finally Dean made himself lean back in the chair. Loss bloomed heavy in his chest at the absence of his brother’s scent but Dean tried his best to ignore it. Pain had bloomed from the myriad of wounds and bruises he had making him wince and hiss in discomfort and he shot Sam a miserable look. “I’m ready,” Dean said, one hand moving down to pet the teddy bear’s soft fur again even as he ignored the look Sam was surely giving him. While he still couldn’t claim to like the Snuggle bear he had a feeling he’d end up sleeping with it and surprisingly he was okay with that. Now if the nurses didn’t tell Sam about it tomorrow it’d be even better…


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Panic attack and brief mention of suicide. Please note it's a mention only and does not happen in the story itself.

Getting breathless while attempting to shower by himself for the first time in who knew how long was a new low as far as Dean was concerned. It had taken a good solid two hours of begging to even get into the bathroom by himself and now here he was, panting for air like he’d been out running a marathon instead of trying to soap himself up. He tipped forward carefully, hyper aware of his injuries, and rested his head against the cool plastic wall of the shower. “I’m so pathetic,” He mumbled tiredly, eyes flitting closed.

“If it helps I think you’re doing swell!” A chipper voice piped up over the din of the shower, causing Dean to groan lowly to himself. With all the effort he’d spent getting into the shower and trying to wash he’d completely forgotten about his babysitter. While that was a harsh assessment considering nurse Jessica Moore had been nothing but 1,000% understanding with him, Dean stood firm with it. Jessica and her fellow nurses currently on staff had been understandably less than pleased about Dean’s idea of taking a shower and it’d only been after he relented to having someone in the bathroom with him had they agreed to it.

In a way, Dean had been glad. He hadn’t admitted it out loud to anyone but ever since he’d first woken up here he hadn’t liked being left alone. It reminded him too much of his time at Castiel’s and he couldn’t stop the shudder that ripped through him with the memory. Sam hadn’t taken notice, thank god, but his brother was a clingy mother-hen of an alpha who had no plans to leave Dean alone anyway so it worked. The nursing staff knew, or at the very least they suspected, because there was no other explanation Dean could come up for the constant parade of them in and out of his room every single time he was awake.

On the flip side, Dean wasn’t overly thrilled about his nurse hovering just outside the small shower stall in case he fell or something equally ridiculous. It chafed against his ingrained instincts to do everything himself—courtesy of growing up an omega under an abusive alpha father—and he hated that some things he couldn’t handle himself. Dean had come a long way since he was first admitted here, if the nurses were to be believed, but some days Dean didn’t see it. He was still incredibly weak and after getting a good look at how utterly thin his body had gotten, he refused to go near any mirrors. Add to that the near-constant exhaustion, the (surprising) realization that Dean didn’t actually feel hungry anymore, and the way the mating bite on his neck throbbed painfully and you had him summed up in a nutshell.

Oh, and that didn’t even begin to cover the way the nurses thought he was literally bug-fuck crazy! That had been a lovely revelation; Dean still flushed hot every time he remembered the way he’d broken down sobbing in front of the therapist. Needless to say he’d staunchly refused any repeat visits and planned to continue doing so despite it being one of the conditions on his getting discharged. Sam was going to be pissed about it, Dean was sure, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need a head shrinker! He was fine…or he would be as soon as he escaped the hospital and—

— “You doin’ alright in there, champ?” Jessica’s soft voice broke into Dean’s thoughts making him startle. He shivered, swallowing down the soft sounds of pain his unwanted movements had caused. “I-I’m fine.” He coughed out, humiliated to realize his cheeks were wet, and not because of the spray that was still pouring. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He hadn’t gotten very far on washing but it’d have to do. He straightened up the best he could and hastily scrubbed a hand across his face to erase the tear-tracks. He didn’t think Jessica would be able to tell the difference but he would and that just wouldn’t do. With the other hand he gave a half-hearted swipe at his pits before calling it quits. At this point he didn’t care about going home still stinking of hospital antiseptic if he got to go. A few more days stuck in here and he was going to start calling it Hotel California. “Jess?” He called, hating the way his voice wobbled under the weight of his emotions and exhaustion. “I think I’m ready to get out.”

The words had barely gotten out of his mouth before Jessica was right there. With quick efficiency she pulled the shower curtain back and reached past him to turn the shower off. “Do you need help drying off?” She asked, and had it been any other time or place Dean would have thought it a come-on. As it was Jessica was looking at him seriously, with just the barest hint of a frown on her pretty face. She was also holding a large towel in one hand, waiting to see if Dean would take it. He did, clinging onto the material like it’s a lifeline. “I’m fine.” He said, fully aware that she could see it for the lie that it is. Jessica didn’t call him on it, however, instead she nodded and stepped back to give him some space.

“I’ll get you some clothes.” Jessica told him, and after seeing his shaky nod she headed back out to the main room where Sam left Dean’s duffel of clothing. While she didn’t shut the bathroom door and Dean could hear her rustling around in the other room he stood there frozen. Panic at being left gripped his guts in an iron vice and refused to let go. The towel hung forgotten as he stood there dripping on the floor, but Dean was hardly aware of it. His attention was on the open, empty doorway and he could feel bile starting to crawl up his throat because at any time Castiel could come back and it could all start over again…

Dean shuddered, a full-bodied move that has nothing to do with being naked and cold. Oh god, what if Castiel did come back? The hand not holding the towel came up to press against the thick waterproof bandage Jess had put over the bite on his neck before the shower. Even underneath all the padding the mating bite hurt with a deep throb that seemed to go straight to Dean’s core. He shuddered again and felt himself starting to slip. More than anything else he didn’t want to go back to Castiel. He didn’t think he could bare it—the pain, the isolation, the chains and drugs and rapes—but Dean knew he wouldn’t get a say in it. If anyone found out that Castiel was the alpha that bit him then Dean would have no choice. The law would see them as mates and it wouldn’t matter jack shit if the bite was consensual or not.

By the time Jessica makes it back into the room Dean’s on the floor, huddled up in a painful ball right there beside the shower, the towel lying forgotten on the floor beside him. “Oh honey!” She cooed and leant down to grab a towel to wrap around his shaking form. Dean let her, though he did whimper when she briskly rubbed him down with another towel. Dean remained quiet and compliant as she helped him carefully get up from the floor and back into the main room.

Instead of getting him dressed in the clothes Sam brought him she helped Dean into the soft robe Sam left earlier and settled him back into the large guest chair situated beside the bed. “How about you rest for a bit and then we’ll try again, hmm?” Jessica said, patting him on the arm gently. Despite the interruption to her day she smiled at him, looking as calm and professional as ever. “Your brother should be back soon. He’s excited about taking you home.”

Dean tried to match her smile with one of his own but he doesn’t quite make it. Depression was common after what he’d been through, one of the nurses had told him. They’d given him medicine for it, along with a whole host of painkillers and antibiotics but Dean didn’t think it was working. Why would it? If the nurses’ hushed conversations when they thought he was asleep were anything to go by, nothing was going to help Dean ‘feel better’. Oh no, apparently all the old wives tales of omegas getting the shit end of the stick when it came to mating bites was actually true. If a mating went wrong, or was forced like Dean’s was, then the omega was the one who suffered for it, not the alpha. Depression was lucky, according to the senior nurse; some omegas hadn’t been able to handle what had happened to them and had ended up taking their own lives in the end.

Dean was, understandably, horrified by that. While he had less than zero desire to see, or be near, Castiel anytime soon he couldn’t imagine taking his own life because the alpha had kidnapped and tortured him. He wouldn’t give Castiel the satisfaction, Dean thought darkly to himself. Dean had been broken and beaten but he was determined to bounce back. He would recover and get better and then he’d figure out what to do about Castiel.

First things first: he had to get out of here. It’d taken three weeks but the doctors had finally agreed that Dean was well enough to be discharged provided he would be going home with help. That had translated out to spending some quality time with Sam and Ruby but Dean was willing to take it if it meant getting out of the hospital. That led him to here: bundled up in Sam’s soft robe while Sam was out getting Dean’s prescriptions filled from the pharmacy and bringing the impala around so Dean wouldn’t have to hoof it half a mile across the parking lot. Dean smiled despite himself; he couldn’t wait to see the impala again. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d ridden in his car and he couldn’t wait to rectify that.

“Now that’s what I like to see!” Jessica piped up from where she had perched on a corner of the hospital bed, watching Dean. “Do you feel ready to get dressed now? I’m sure your brother will be back any time now.”

Dean blinked up at her, surprised. He’d been caught up in his thoughts so much he’d completely forgotten she was even there. He considered her words for a moment before finally nodding. While he was comfortable in the robe, he’d die before admitting that a good eighty percent of that was because it smelled of Sam and safety, he didn’t want to leave the hospital in it. “Y-yeah.” He finally forced out, finding his voice. “Let’s do it.”

“Great!” Once she knew he was on board Jessica wasted no time. She hopped off the bed and went to grab the clothing she’d left in the bathroom when she retrieved Dean earlier. She came back a moment later with the bundle in hand and smiled kindly at Dean. “Alright. I’m sure you’ll feel much better after your dressed.”

A good ten minutes later, Dean had to agree with her. The woman was excellent at her job; she’d gotten him dressed in a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a thick sweatshirt without breaking a sweat. “There!” She beamed at him, looking just as thrilled as Dean felt, “Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled shyly, quietly pleased. It’d been nice to get into actual clothes, and nicer still to find that they smelled faintly like Sam. Dean could say what he wanted about instincts but sometimes it was nice to have that familiar alpha family scent around and this was one of them. He settled back in the chair again, tired even though he’d been very little help in the actual dressing process and looked towards Jessica thoughtfully. “…Would you mind getting me a soda?” He asked hesitantly, licking his lips at the prospect of a nice cold glass of soda.

Jessica turned from where she’d been straightening up the room and laid the papers in her hand down on the bed. “Sure!” She said, looking at him. “Any special requests? There isn’t a big selection but I’m sure I can find you something you like.”

Dean just shook his head, his attention wavering towards the newspaper she had set down. “Anything is fine.” It would be too, he was more hoping the sugar would help give him an energy boost rather than languish in lethargy.

Jessica didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just didn’t care, that his attention was elsewhere. Instead she just smiled and nodded and headed for the doorway. “I’ll be right back then.” She said and then she was gone, leaving Dean alone.

The second she was out of eyesight Dean’s anxiety spiked but he forced the feeling back down, more focused on the paper. “…FOUND ALIVE!” The partial headline declared though Dean had managed to see the entire thing earlier before Sam had blanched and tried hiding it. Dean didn’t know why; it wasn’t like he didn’t know the story would be out eventually. The fact that it took this long for the media to get ahold of it was nothing short of a miracle. He squinted at the paper, trying to read the article upside down.

“…a miracle! Found by his own brother alongside the road…” the article read, and Dean closed his eyes abruptly, not wanting to see anymore. He’d known Sam had found him—his little brother had let that slip—but to see it in black and white print for the whole world to see was worse, somehow. How the media had gotten wind of such details, he didn’t know considering it had taken a while for the hospital staff to figure out who he was.

The only thing he could figure was it had to be Castiel. Somehow. The older alpha may have gone to ground, but just like the sense of foreboding that hung-over Dean like a raincloud, this was just another way to remind Dean that he was out there. The sheer thought that he was still out there and possibly keeping tabs was more than Dean could bare—he was terrified beyond words, beyond thought. What the fuck was he supposed to do? The mere idea that he could be anywhere, around any corner, just watching and waiting for his time to pounce…it was horrifying, and a shudder ripped through Dean at the thought. His eyes burned as they misted over, thankfully blurring the headline from view.  _ What am I going to do?  _ He wondered, not for the first time. He didn’t have the faintest idea…

“Hey Dean! Ruby’s out front in the impala, are you ready to go?” Sam came bounding in through the door, a big grin pasted on his face. It faltered when he caught sight of Dean, but he quickly forced it back in place. “Is everything okay in here?”

Dean shook his head, his heart stuck in his throat. He could feel the familiar burn of tears prickling behind his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He’d done enough more than enough crying for the time being. Still he raised a hand and hastily put on what he hoped was a convincing smile for his brother. “Yeah,” he said, lying through his teeth. “Everything’s fine.” At the very least Dean hoped it could be some day.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Panic attack

_ Hard to believe it’s been two and a half months…  _ Dean thought as he eyed his reflection nervously in the large mirror in front of him. Just a handful of months ago he didn’t think he’d ever be here again, sitting in front of this mirror as he waited for the makeup artists to perform their magic on him. Now that he was here he could barely believe it—just like he could hardly believe the pale, thin man staring back out of the mirror was him. Some of that was his fault, Dean supposed. Ever since he’d woken in the hospital he’d strictly avoided mirrors as much as humanly possible. It hadn’t been easy, especially since he’d been stuck with Sam as a roommate since his release from the hospital, but he’d weathered through it. He just didn’t have the heart to see what kind of wreck he’d become.

He had lost weight, Dean knew, but the man in the mirror was practically gaunt. All sharp angles and tired eyes and a heavily lined forehead from tension.  _ Trish sure has her work cut out for her!  _ He thought somewhat hysterically, caught somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to burst out in tears. Coming to terms with the weight-loss had been one of the harder things in Dean’s opinion. He just wasn’t hungry anymore; the therapist he’d been reluctantly seeing had claimed it was due to the trauma and starvation he’d undergone at Castiel’s hands which Dean accepted. His memory of everything there towards the end was spotty at best and the parts he did remember he wished he hadn’t so Dean wasn’t willing to question things. Beside it wasn’t like the proof wasn’t in front of him considering he’d had to buy practically a whole new wardrobe since his old clothes hung off him now.

It still didn’t make it any better to look in the mirror and see a practical stranger, however. He frowned at his reflection, studying it. Dean had never thought of himself as a vain man but he had considered himself to be handsome but now he didn’t think he could even say that. His face had whittled down to nothing but angles, especially around his jaw, that had barely been covered by a patchy beard he hadn’t felt like shaving off. Still, the only thing that seemed to be remotely familiar were his eyes, peering out at him from that unfamiliar face.  _ At least all the bruises and swelling faded… _ Dean thought optimistically for if there was one bonus to all this it was that. Still, he didn’t envy the makeup artists job ahead. He shifted, rubbing his hands nervously down his jean clad legs.

Trish and Shelley and the rest of the team had seen him looking like shit before but this time felt worse than normal, somehow, and Dean was just barely holding onto his nerves. The feeling had been growing since Sam had drove him to the set earlier and had carefully guided him in here before leaving to get dressed. It made him feel foolish—and he never would have admitted it out loud—but Dean had wished his brother had stayed. Sam hadn’t left Dean’s side much since he’d come home, and while that had ended up irritating Dean to no end, he now felt a pang of somehow being abandoned.

“You’re being pathetic!” He growled lowly to the reflection in the mirror, uncaring of how crazy he’d seem if someone were to walk in. “You aren’t a pup so nut up already!” The insults were familiar from his childhood and unsurprisingly they had the same effect they did back then—none. He had been nothing but a weak omega pretending to be as strong and confident as an alpha back then and it seemed things hadn’t changed in that regard. His father, were he still alive, would have been beyond disgusted. When the tired-looking man in the mirror didn’t do anything but stare back at him sadly Dean sighed and sagged like a puppet with its strings cut.

He didn’t get long to dig himself in much deeper, however, before there was a short knock on the trailer door. Before Dean could do much more than turn his head around to look at the door was opening. In came a calming burst of birch and sunshine followed by the owner of the scents: Trish. Dean let out an inaudible relieved breath at seeing the short plump beta makeup artist rather than the faceless horrors his mind had begun to conjure. “Trish, hi!” He fumbled out, still off-kilter.

“There you are sweetie!” Trish beamed at him as he moved to close the door. “Your fool of a brother didn’t bother telling anyone he had stashed you here or else I would have been here! I was at the food tent getting a bite—everyone was waiting for Benny to drop you off like usual; we didn’t realize you were already here!” She chatted away as she moved back to Dean’s side and sat her bag on the counter in front of him. “I brought you something!”

Whether it was a combination of her inherent calm scent and mindless chatter or just a reaction to her, Dean didn’t know, but he felt himself relaxing, nevertheless. He sagged down in the chair, some of his tension bleeding out of his bones. Trish was a short dark-haired woman with a round face and equally round features and a personality that shone over it all. She often talked a lot, mostly mindless things, and where some would probably find it irritating Dean found it oddly comforting. Plus, she was damn good at her job—something Dean appreciated immensely. Considering the sheer magic she had worked when he’d shown up after Cas had beaten the hell out of him, Dean didn’t think there was anything she couldn’t do. He smiled to himself with the thought, deep in picturing her dressed in wizard robes and wielding a real magic wand before the thunk of her bag and her words snapped him back out of it.

“Something for me?” He blinked up at her wonderingly, the wizard vision still firmly lodged in his brain. She’d look rather cute as a wizard he thought. “You didn’t have to do that.” He said softly when he finally found his voice, feeling touched.

“Silly boy,” She clucked despite the fact she was probably only a year or older than Dean at the most. “I wanted to! I’ve missed seeing you in here every morning—it hasn’t been the same without you!” She nudged the bag closer to him, “Go on. Get in there before it turns cold!”

Dean huffed, amused, but obediently reached for the bag. Part of him wanted to argue because Trish really didn’t need to bring him anything but he knew he wasn’t going to win with her. He never had in the past so there was little reason to think he would this time. “Okay, okay.” He laughed as he stuck his hand in the bag…and pulled out a large still-warm doughnut. “I love you!” He murmured fervently though whether it was meant towards the sprinkle covered chocolate doughnut or Trish he didn’t elaborate. A second later found him taking a large bite out of the doughnut and Dean groaned happily. After months of living with Sam and Ruby and suffering through their constant health food kick the doughnut was possibly the best thing Dean could ever remember tasting. “Thank you!” He enthused through his mouthful.

Trish, to her credit, didn’t laugh out loud at how ridiculous Dean was though if the crinkling of her eyes was anything to go by, it was a close call. “You’re welcome sweetie!” She grinned widely as she moved her back away and started pulling out the things she would need to work on him. “I figured some chocolate would do you good before we got started!” She chirped as she grabbed ahold of the electric razor and turned back to him. “Now let’s see if we can’t make you prettier than you already are!”

Forty-five minutes later Dean ceases to exist. Thanks to the magic of Trish, and his hair stylist Shelley, plus the awesome folks at wardrobe Dean has been made up, dressed, and shaved and primped until he’s no longer himself. No, the man looking back in the mirror now, while still gaunt looking, is Jensen and Dean couldn’t be more relieved. While he hadn’t doubted his team’s ability, it was good to see the proof in front of him. It was like seeing a long-lost friend again and for the first time in a handful of months Dean felt like he could breathe. “You’re a miracle worker!” He enthused to Trish, unable to hide his excitement.

“It’s all you honey!” Trish tells him, her scent practically radiating happiness as she shoos him out of the trailer. “Go out there and get them! I know everyone is excited to have you back!”

With her encouragement ringing in his ears Dean heads off towards the set. His nerves return with every step that takes him closer; everyone else has been back for a few days now getting things set up and ready to roll and while Dean was fully expecting to see heads turn as he passed it didn’t make it any easier to witness.  _ They’re just curious!  _ He told himself for all the good it did. He kept his head bowed and beelined for the set building, determined to ignore any whispering that could be going on behind his back.  _ You’ve got this!  _ The voice in his head continues, and oddly it sounds like Jensen is the one speaking, and who knows, maybe Dean’s gone that far crazy that it is;  _ You can do this! _

Dean wished Jensen was right. The building where the inside set is directly in front of him when Dean sees them: Sam and Castiel. He comes to a dead halt right there in the middle of the walkway, throat suddenly dry as a bone. They’re both in full costume and Sam is fooling around with what appears to be a rubber machete but thankfully neither of them appears to have caught sight of Dean yet. His heart leaps up into his throat as he watches them laugh, and it takes off doing double time when Castiel bends over laughing at something Sam says. When Castiel straightens up Sam claps him on the back and they both start to laugh harder. They look like two old friends catching up and Dean just can’t. He can’t do it.

Without making a conscious decision he finds himself slinking backwards as unobtrusively as possible. How in the hell did he think he’d be able to manage this, he doesn’t know. If he’s affected this bad just from  _ seeing _ Castiel then surely there’s no way in hell he’d been able to get up there and act alongside him. Black spots dance in front of his vision as he continues backing away slowly as to avoid being spotted and a strange ringing has started up in his ears.  _ Great,  _ he thinks,  _ just what I need another panic attack! _

Just like all the other humiliating things that have become commonplace since his release from the hospital so have been the panic attacks. Sometimes Dean can feel them coming on, like now, but other times they sneak up and blow him right out of the water and leave him floundering. He doesn’t know which is worse, especially when he feels like he’s hyperventilating and ready to collapse despite his desperate need to get as far away from Castiel as possible. He needs to get out of here, he needs to find a place to hide before he’s seen…he needs to…Dean’s thinking stutters to a halt and he blinks around him confusedly, mind a jumbled mass of conflicting emotions that are all screaming at him at once.

There’s a shout behind him, but the sound is far off and quickly swallowed up by the ringing in Dean’s ears. He turns to search for it despite the fact the world has turned an odd hazy gray black around the edges, but it’s already too late. Before he can even take a handful of steps he stumbles over something, possibly his own feet, and falls. Dean doesn’t feel his body hit the ground, no, all his attention is on the horrible cry of anguish coming from somewhere that follows him down into the dark…


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Panic attack and violence

Pain propelled Dean back into the waking world and it was so familiar he damn near cried from sheer frustration as he slowly pried his eyes open. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see but Sam’s concerned face hovering just shy of a few inches in front of his own while he straddled Dean wasn’t it. “S-Sam?” He coughed, desperately in need of a drink. “What happened?”

Thankfully Sam pulled back, but not that far. He didn’t give Dean the room to move and his face was an unreadable mask radiating out pure concern. “You tell me Dean!” He demanded, worry and fear oozing through his tone. “We heard a scream and found you passed out on the path! Did you have another attack?”

Dean flashed hot then cold, flushing clear down to his neck. What was worse than having a panic attack was his brother calling him out for having one. He gaped up at Sam wordlessly, at a loss as to where to even start. He wasn’t totally sure what happened exactly but considering Sam was still dressed in Jared’s clothing, complete with his signature knit beanie, he could put the pieces together. “I’m guessing work’s canceled?” He rasped out, wishing for not the first time that he had something to soothe his overly dry throat with. “You didn’t call the ambulance, did you?” Because the only thing worse than having a panic attack and being found by his little brother was having the ambulance show up to haul him off.

Sam looked away, and it was his turn to blush in the awkward silence. “ _ I  _ didn’t…” He hedged, leaning a bit further back as to be out of range of the first he was sure was going to come flying at him. “I…may have sent Cas to call….” He mumbled out in a rush, unable to look Dean in the eyes because he knew what he’d see there. “What’d you want me to do Dean? I thought you had relapsed!”

Dean froze at the mention of Castiel’s name, a bolt of pure fear zinging down his spine. Castiel. Fuck. It all came back in a rush—seeing Castiel was what had set this off in the first place! He shuddered hard, unable to stifle the fear suddenly pouring from his scent in waves. He couldn’t face Castiel; he just couldn’t. “I—” He started only to snap his mouth closed a moment later because what could he say? Sam still didn’t know the truth of what had happened to him even all these months later and if Dean had it his way it was going to stay like that. He didn’t want Sam to know; didn’t want to see the judgement, or worse, the pity, that would surely come following the declaration. He coughed again and reached up to push Sam off him. “L-let me up!”

When the expected hit didn’t come Sam found himself turning back to his brother with one eyebrow raised in surprise. He thought Dean would deck him for sure—but instead he was taken aback at the absolutely haunted look in his brother’s eyes. Sam had seen his brother during a lot of flashbacks ever since he’d found him alongside the road but this was something entirely different. “Dean?” He asked, cautious and worried that he’d gone into shock or something worse. The scent of distressed omega wasn’t helping—if anything it was making Sam’s nerves ratchet up even higher. His gums itched and his fingers twitched; he wanted to help but he didn’t have a clue as to what to do. “What’s wrong?” He ignored Dean’s pushing hand, it was easy when his brother was still as strong as a newborn kitten, and leaned back in again. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

Dammit all! Dean growled, his eyes flashing momentarily gold in his fury. For all his anger and for as far as he’d come since he’d been in the hospital he still didn’t possess enough strength to push Sam off him and they both knew it. That didn’t mean he was going to bow down and submit either; if Dean had it his way, he was never going to submit to another alpha ever again, brother or no. “Move Sam!” He demanded, giving a partially hard thrust to his brother’s arm. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Sam burst out, his own scent souring in response to Dean’s stubbornness. “You just had a panic attack and collapsed in the middle of the walkway and you  _ don’t want to talk about it _ ?!” His voice got higher towards the end, incredulity flooding through his tone. “No! You know what? No fuckin’ way man!” His eyes flashed red in response to Dean’s inner omega’s anger and he could feel his own mounting. In the moment he didn’t give a damn if he had to sit there all night—he was getting answers one way or the other! “I deserve to know what happened!”

Dean was getting fucking pissed off. His scent turned from sour to burning in the blink of an eye as he glared up at Sam. “I will bite you!” He vowed, meaning it. He may not be able to push Sam off but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to fight dirty until the alpha relented either. Dean had learned his lesson the hard way—he was never going down without a fight ever again. “Get the fuck off me!”

Sam huffed, but relented. He leaned back, settling onto his haunches but made no move to go any further. “Just don’t bite me!” He sniped, unsure if Dean was serious about it or not. Either way he didn’t really want to find out if he was! “You know you need to talk about this dude,” he pleaded, bringing out the big guns: the dreaded puppy eyes. “Your therapist has been telling you the same thing!”

“I’ve told you a hundred times Sam, I’m not talking about it!” Dean grumbled as he pushed his way up onto his elbows. “I’ve told that fucker the same thing. You’d think he would just give up already!” That was Dean’s hope at least—it's already been two months, surely the therapist would get tired of hearing the same ‘ole song and dance every week eventually. Dean was prepared for the long haul himself; he was sure he’d never feel ready to talk about the hell he went through. If he didn’t feel like it after nearly three months, then what were the odds he’d want to after six months? Or a year? Or longer?

“Okay, fine!” Sam threw his arms up and rolled his eyes. He was being dramatic, he knew, but Dean had a habit of bringing it out of him sometimes. Dropping his hands again he scrubbed one down his face, uncaring if he smudged off his makeup. At the rate they were going it wasn’t like they would be on set any time soon. “Are you feeling okay though? I’d feel better if you let the ambulance people check you over at least.”

Dean glowered but there was no heat behind it. The anger that had bloomed red-hot only a moment ago was dying to embers in his chest. “I’m fine.” He said though was he really? He didn’t feel injured aside from the start of a headache in the back of his skull.  _ Must have hit my head when I went down, _ he thought sourly, lips twisting. He looked down at the rest of him, and aside from some dirt he thought he looked okay. “I don’t think I need to go with the ambulance.”

“Well they are on their way.” A new deep voice broke in. “They should be here anytime along with Robert and Benny. They were quite concerned about you Dean.” Castiel had come up while the brothers had been talking and now stood there just off to the side, hands stuffed into the pockets of his tight costume jeans. His face and scent were as neutral as his words when he asked: “Are you sure you are feeling alright?”

Dean froze like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. For a long second he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, hell he was even sure his heart had stopped beating! Castiel was  _ here _ . In the flesh. Standing close enough that the omega could feel the heat coming off him despite still being semi-trapped under his brother’s bulk. He swallowed once, hard, and found he was unable to speak. He felt like a rat caught in a trap and he didn’t know what to do. He kept his eyes down, refusing to look at either alpha as he shook his head. He didn’t want to go with the ambulance but he didn’t want to stay here either now that Castiel was here. He didn’t know what to do!

“I didn’t say you needed to go with them,” Sam insisted, though like Dean his anger had all but gone. Maybe that’s why he was able to pick up on the change in Dean’s scent so fast, or maybe it was because he was still partially sprawled over his brother, but either way he knew instantly something was wrong. His eyes narrowed as he looked first down at Dean then back up at Castiel who was hovering awkwardly off to the side. He knew it was embarrassing for Dean to be seen when he was feeling down like this but something in the air felt off about what was going on. “Everything all right?” He asked lightly.

Dean was on the border of panicking again which just made the clawing anxiety tightening in his chest ten times worse. He’d never imagined that he would wish he had told his brother everything that had happened to him but he was sorely wishing he had now! It wasn’t Sam’s fight but his brother would protect him, of that Dean had no doubt. He whined low in his throat, pleading for what he didn’t quite know. He just wanted to get out of here.

“Dean? Are you sure you’re okay?” Castiel piped in, his deep voice rumbling loud in contrast to Dean’s sudden silence. “I know you probably don’t want to go with the ambulance but perhaps it’ll be for the best…” The alpha trailed off, sounding nervous despite his laid-back posture.

“Dean?” Sam frowned, his hackles rising at hearing that broken whine leave his brother. It reminded him of that broken dying form he’d found huddling underneath a tarp for warmth and suddenly the pieces of the puzzle began to click together. He looked between Castiel, who was looking like he was out for a weekend stroll, and Dean who looked nothing short of terrified. What had changed? His brother had seemed shaken but okay before Castiel arrived yet now that he had Dean had gone mute and terrified and Sam didn’t like the picture that was forming in his mind _ . Could he have ...? _ He wondered, quietly sizing Castiel up.

Sam was a bigger guy than most and was probably stronger but he had a feeling Castiel wouldn’t go down without a fight if it came to it. He bit the inside of his lip, considering. The first thing that mattered was getting Dean safe. He could always question Castiel afterwards. “How about we get you up?” He asked as he turned to look at Dean, hoping to convey ‘trust me!’ with his eyes alone. “Maybe you’ll feel better once you’re up on your feet!”

Dean shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. His whole scent had turned sour and rotten from panic and fear and he could feel it start to overwhelm him. Of all the scenarios he’d imagined happening when he met Castiel again this hadn’t been one of them! Dean had always thought he would be able to handle it like a man, would be ready and able to fight back yet he was doing the complete opposite. All there was, was fear and he was choking under it. As such it took several seconds before Sam’s words penetrated through the fog he was in and several more before he found the strength to open his eyes again. There was a strange note to Sam’s voice that Dean found oddly comforting and he nodded, wanting to trust it. Slowly, he lifted his arms up to his brother.

Waiting for Dean to decide on what he was going to do was agony. Every second that passed Sam’s worry grew. He didn’t know what he’d do if Dean decided to continue laying there until the ambulance came but he’d figure something out. Thankfully he was spared from deciding a few seconds later when Dean finally reached up for him. It was a show of trust and Sam exhaled his thanks at the sight. He wasted no time—he reached down, grabbed Dean under the armpits, and hefted his brother straight up onto his feet.

Whoa! Dean squeezed his eyes closed once again though this time was from the sheer headrush he got when Sam lifted him up. It was like riding a rollercoaster at an amusement park and for a moment the world spun around him like he’d just gotten off one. When he thought he could manage without throwing up he tentatively opened his eyes again and gave his brother a wan smile of thanks. There was a building a few feet from where they were standing and he headed for it slowly, wobbling every few steps. If nothing else it provided something to lean against and that sounded perfect right about now.

Sam watched his brother go with mixed feelings. On one hand he wanted to help him but on the other he wanted to talk to Castiel more now that Dean wasn’t literally between the two of them. Seeing Dean settle leaning up against the building decided it and Sam plastered on his best fake smile as he turned back to Castiel. “How about we go get a chair for him to sit on?” He suggested in what he hoped was a normal tone of voice. “That way he’ll be up off the ground whenever the ambulance arrives.”

Castiel watched the brother’s movements carefully. Dean still didn’t look well, a fact that had his inner alpha preening. He could see the fear in Dean’s eyes when he chanced to look at him and the sight made him instantly hard in his jeans. He stuck his hands in the pockets surreptitiously trying to take away notice from the obvious bulge there. He focused his attention on the brother’s, not missing the way the younger one was sizing him up. It was cute, in a way. Sam may have been bigger than he was but Castiel had no doubt he could win against the giant alpha if need be. All it would take would be one word to Dean and both the alpha and omega would be crumbled at his feet.  _ Ah, what a beautiful sight!  _ He savored it, watching in amusement as Sam pulled his brother off the ground. The way Dean wobbled as he walked did little to ease Castiel’s erection. It was enticing, like watching a newborn on coltish legs and Castiel wanted nothing more than to eat Dean up. The omega had been such a wonderful toy to play with…

In contrast Castiel found himself practically scowling in the face of Sam Winchester when he brought up his asinine idea of finding Dean a chair. What was the point when he’d just picked the omega up off the ground? It was a moot point, as well, considering Castiel had never called the ambulance in the first place. Instead he had used the time to make cover excuses with that ridiculous old crow of an alpha Singer before coming to watch the show. He couldn’t tell all that to Sam, however, at least not yet. Where would the fun be? Instead he matched Sam’s smile with a well-practiced concerned one of his own. “Do you think he’ll be okay until we get back? I could stay with him if you think it’d be better.” 

Sam snorted, though he kept his mouth firmly shut on the myriad of things he wanted to say. He had noticed the other alpha’s arousal, it was impossible to miss in those jeans, and had seen the way he looked at Dean. The final pieces of the puzzle had clicked together and Sam was determined to get to the truth. “I think he’ll be okay on his own. Some fresh air and breathing room will do him good.” He spoke pleasantly, barely casting a look back in his brother’s direction. “Besides I want you to take a look at something for me real quick.”

Castiel shrugged, having nothing to add. He could see where this was going—threats and violence were nothing new to him—so he might as well just play along, At the very least it was going to be quite enjoyable watching the way Sam’s face twisted when he finally found out the truth about his brother. He waved his arm indicating Sam to go on: “Lead the way.”

Dean watched the two of them head off with a mixture of relief and concern. He knew Sam could hold his own but he didn’t trust Castiel as far as he could throw him. What could he do though when merely being face to face with Castiel made him want to shrivel up and die? He shuddered, the rough edge of the building digging into his sides uncomfortably.  _ This is all my fault!  _ He thought miserably, letting his head thunk back against the building behind him. It did absolutely nothing for his headache beyond making it grow though that was the furthest thing from Dean’s mind now.  _ I just can’t sit here and do nothing!  _ He knew he couldn’t—he’d never be able to forgive himself if something happened to Sam when he could have prevented it. That settled it then; gathering the tattered remains of his strength he pushed off from the building and stood. Dean had no idea what he would do when he caught up to Castiel and Sam but he was determined to do-so anyway. He’d figure the rest out when the time came.

“Where are we going, Sam?” Castiel asked as they rounded the corner out of sight of Dean. He was still playing the concerned bumbling idiot, a performance he was well good at if he did say so himself. So far it had fooled both Winchester brothers perfectly as well as the rest of this little production company as well. It allowed him to get close, to study his prey better and thus far hadn’t let him down. Even now, as he followed obediently along, he kept the façade firmly in place least Sam catch on.

Castiel on the inside, was a whole different matter. He appraised Sam was they walked, blue eyes roaming up and down the taller man’s length; it was quite the beautiful sight. While Castiel most preferred to take and break down omega’s and beta’s he had to admit he liked the idea of breaking an alpha. It’d be quite the challenge he knew—from everything he’d seen thus far from Sam Winchester he was just as strong mentally as physically, but oh, how Castiel wanted to try. He shifted, his jeans growing tight again as he imagined all the ways he could try to break Sam. He wouldn’t stop until he had, oh no. Castiel would keep trying until he had Sam screaming his name as he knotted him and he could already picture it, the way it’d feel to wrap his hands around Sam’s knot and squeeze—

The fist came out of nowhere, landing smack into Castiel’s nose. He staggered back, clutching his face, and lifted watering eyes to see a very pissed off Sam Winchester standing right in front of him. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER?!” He roared, arm cocked back to take another swing.

“Whoa, whoa! Sam!” Castiel spluttered, playing it up. “What are you talking about? We left your brother back there!” He held his hands tightly to his nose but it wasn’t helping; blood was pouring down, leaking between his fingers to fall down onto his clothes. “I think you broke my nose!”

“Good.” Sam smiled darkly. “Just think of that as a quarter of the pain you inflicted on my brother!” If he had his way he’d do far worse than simply breaking Castiel’s nose. The need for revenge burned hot in his veins though he was reigning it in…for now.

“I didn’t—” Castiel protested but the rest of his words were lost as Sam’s fist connected with his face for a second time, knocking him nearly off his feet. He stumbled back, swearing. His face was a deep throb of pain centered mostly on his nose. If it wasn’t broken before it certainly was now. “I didn’t touch your brother!” He snarled; words hardly understandable.

Unbeknown to Castiel Dean had come up behind the pair and had heard every word. Fear still twisted heavy in his guts but at hearing Castiel lie straight to his brother’s face some ember within Dean’s soul flared to life. He growled, the sound rumbling in his throat, as he approached closer.  _ How dare he!  _ Dean fumed;  _ how dare Castiel stand there and lie like he was innocent!  _ “Liar!” Dean snarled, his fear fading away only to be replaced with burning anger. “He’s lying!”

Oh, this was good. This was perfect. Castiel had dreamed about having both Winchester’s under his command since he’d met them and now they were both playing right into his hands. Well, sort of. Getting clocked in the face hadn’t been part of the plan but Castiel was versatile. He could adjust. He dropped his hands and aimed a truly horrifying grin in Dean’s direction. “Hello Dean.” He said wetly as though he wasn’t bleeding copiously. Blood covered the front of him, soaking into his clothing. It was good that the charade was nearly up; there wouldn’t be any saving the costume pieces after this.

“What the fuck!” Dean yelped at the sight of Castiel’s injured face, caught somewhere in that haze between terrified and really pissed the hell off. He shook his head angrily, determined to ignore whatever the hell game Castiel was trying to play. He didn’t have time for games! His gaze travelled over Castiel’s shoulder to Sam, who was standing there watching the two of them warily. “You okay Sammy?”

Sam didn’t trust this, not one bit. His gaze switched between Dean before landing on Castiel and going back again. “I’m fine,” he ground out, hands still balled into fists at his sides. “Is he the one who hurt you?” He barked, feeling partially bad about getting in Dean’s face like this when he’d already been through so much but the bigger part of him simply didn’t care. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

Dean flinched at his brother’s harsh tone but he stood firm. He stood stock still, his eyes locking onto Castiel’s as he said: “Yes.” It wasn’t the time to elaborate and Dean didn’t. If Sam still wanted to know the sordid details later then he’d consider it then.

“Oh, this is so beautiful!” Castiel burst into the conversation with a fake sickening sweet tone. “You two are positively disgusting!” He spat, backing slowly away from the brothers without taking his eyes off either one of them. “It’s too bad you won’t get to live long enough to feel embarrassed about it!” Before either of the brothers could react, he reached around him and pulled a carefully hidden pistol out of the waistband of his jeans. “Now,” He said, waving the gun slowly from one brother to the next. “Let’s discuss, shall we?”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end! If you've read this far I'd just like to say thank you for reading! Please heed the tags!
> 
> WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH! Violence and ambiguous ending
> 
> Please see the end notes for a brief description if you'd rather skip it.

“What the _fuck_?!” Unsurprisingly it’s Dean who breaks the tense silence that’s fallen between the three of them. While he makes sure to keep one wary eye on the gun the rest of his attention goes to focus on Castiel’s face. It’s harder than he thought it’d be, looking his rapist and torturer in the eyes, but Dean does it anyway. There’s nothing but malice pouring out from those blue depths and for the life of him Dean doesn’t know how he missed it before. “Put the damn gun down!” He orders, proud of the way his voice doesn’t wobble despite his churning emotions.

Castiel scoffs in response, shaking his head. “Do I look like I’m stupid?” He asks rhetorically. “You think you’re gonna grow a pair and take it from me? All you have to do is say the word Dean. We can end this right now. We’re going to go and have a little talk, you and I,” His blue eyes slid between the brothers. “And I won’t even hurt Sammy, how about that?”

“It’s Sam.” The younger alpha growls, his whole body tensing like he’s prepared to pounce Castiel. It’d be a foolish move but he was beyond caring. Now that he knew without a doubt that Castiel was the one who hurt Dean Sam was gonna deal with it. He didn’t give a fuck what happened to him as long as Castiel’s reign of terror against his brother ended right here, right now.

At Castiel’s words Dean froze, the blood draining out of his face. He didn’t need anyone to spell it out for him--he knew what kind of ‘talk’ Castiel wanted to have and it wasn’t one that’d end well for Dean. He swallows hard, glancing between Castiel, the gun, and Sam. “No.” He says, and yeah, there’s a definite wobble in there this time. “I don’t want to have a ‘little talk’ with you.” Fuck, he didn’t want to talk to him in the first place! He was sure Castiel had to be picking up his scent--the sour smell of wilted flowers was making his own nose tickle. “Just put down the gun and let’s discuss this, okay?”

“How about no?” Castiel scoffed, looking annoyed. “I’m done playing games with you. It was fun while it lasted but . . .” He turned the gun towards Dean and flicks the safety off. “Unfortunately this will have to be the end. I’ll make sure they write a fitting obituary, provided I’m not too distraught by losing my mate in such a horrible accident of course!”

The world around Dean narrowed down to a tunnel as he stared down the barrel of the gun. _Holy shit! _He thought hysterically, brain caught between remaining frozen and wanting to spiral in a million different directions at once. Of all the ways he had imagined his possible death, it coming at the hands of a madman hadn’t reached the top ten. At best Dean had always figured a car wreck or too much bacon consumption would do him in. “L-let’s not get hasty…” He hedged, eyes never leaving the gun. Shit! What the fuck was he going to do?

Luckily for Dean Sam was on his side! Seeing how all of Castiel’s attention was focused on Dean, and Dean’s on the gun, Sam took his chance. It wasn’t the smartest thing, and he mentally sent up an apology to Ruby for the stupidity for it was surely about to get him killed. Not giving himself time to overthink it he simply leaped--right at Castiel. 

Both alpha’s hit the ground with grunts and it was nothing more than a sheer miracle that the gun didn’t go off when it fell. Sam had the advantage not only in surprise but in sheer size--he dwarfed Castiel as they wrestled for control of the weapon.

Dean, for his part, simply blinked. He was stunned. One moment he was staring death in the face and the next he was watching his brother and Castiel wrestle around like a couple of teenagers in a fistfight. It took several crucial seconds for his brain to get back online but once it did he didn’t waste time. Uttering a cure under his breath he jumped into the fray!

“Get the fuck off me!” Castiel screeched as he clawed at Sam’s face. The younger alpha had him outmatched in weight but not in wit. And unfortunately for Sam Castiel was willing to fight dirty. He bit and clawed and cursed as he struggled to overthrow Sam’s bulk. The gun was right there...all he had to do was be the first one to get it.

“Shut the fuck up!” Sam retorted back as he tried getting Castiel into a headlock. The older alpha was agile, he’d give him that much. He certainly wasn’t making it easy but as long as Sam could keep him from getting the gun he was going to. “Get the gun!” He shouted at Dean hoping beyond hope his brother would listen. Between the two of them he was less likely to end up shooting Castiel before it was all over.

“Ow! Son of a bitch!” Dean groaned as he was kicked in the ribs by one of Castiel’s feet. Certainly struggling on the ground wasn’t all that Hollywood made it out to be considering the way he was getting battered. He grunted and cursed and proceeded to bite and scratch back any part he could reach. “I’m trying!” He cried out as Castiel got in a particularly hard scratch down the side of his face. He could see it but reaching it wasn’t going to be easy. 

The next few minutes are lost to the scuffle as they struggle for the gun. Dean thinks he has it but he doesn’t; Sam does, and to his horror, so does Castiel. Both of them grab and pull on it at the same time. . . There’s a deafening bang as the gun goes off. 

Silence falls heavy and hangs in the air like the aftermath of a nuclear explosion.

The entire world appears to have gone silent, holding onto baited breath. 

Finally one figure slowly gets to his feet.

Then another.

The third remains on the ground in a rapidly growing pool of blood.

Slowly Sam turns his head to appraise his brother. His lip is bleeding and his right eye is well on its way to swelling shut but he’s unharmed. He blinks, unable to find words for what just happened. 

Across from him Dean is in roughly the same condition. The scratch running down his cheek is bleeding and smeared halfway across his face but aside from that and a bump on his forehead he’s relatively unscathed. He blinks slowly at his brother, “Sam?” He asks, breaking the odd moment of silence that’s fallen between the two of them. 

“Y-yeah?” Sam chokes out. He shakes his head, forcing himself to snap out of it. “You okay?” He asks as he moves in closer wanting to see for his own eyes that Dean’s safe.

“I’m fine.” Dean brushes him off at the pass, not in the mood for his coddling. “We need to call an ambulance.” He says, tone completely flat as he looks past his brother at Castiel, who is still on the ground.

“Why?” Sam challenges, sticking his chin in the air. As far as he’s concerned Castiel’s gotten exactly what he deserved after what he did to Dean. “He hurt you, Dean! You _nearly died _because of what he did! Why should I care? Huh?!”

Dean staggered back at the force of Sam’s outburst, tearing his eyes away from Castiel. “I remember.” He replied quietly, hurt by the accusation that he’d somehow forgotten everything Castiel put him through after still recovering from it for the past few months. “I’m not asking you to care.” He finally says at length, unable to look at Sam in the eyes. “I’m just saying we should be better than he is.”

Sam doesn’t say anything but from the corner of his eye Dean sees him pull his phone from his pocket. Relief and some other nameless emotions bubble to the forefront as he watched Sam walk away, phone to his ear. Letting out a breath he turns back to find Castiel staring up at him.

“Dean.” The alpha says, his voice barely more than a gravely gargle. There’s blood leaking from his mouth to match all the blood that’s seeped into his shirt. His hands are pressed against his stomach where the gun must have gone off but even as Dean watches blood wells up underneath Castiel’s fingers. “Dean.” He repeats, voice thicker.

Dean doesn’t move closer. His feet have taken on a mind of their own and feel rooted to the spot as he stares down the alpha. Part of him wanted to turn and run and never look back. The other part...didn’t know what it wanted. There were so many things Dean wanted to say, to yell, to scream, yet now that he had Castiel right where he wanted Dean just couldn’t. He couldn’t do it; his tongue felt three sizes too big in his mouth, rendering him mute. Instead he settles for shaking his head and remaining out of reaching distance. It’s not much but it’s a compromise of sorts.

If he’s annoyed by Dean’s clear reluctance, Castiel doesn’t show it. His skin is growing paler by the minute, turning an ashen grey. The look he gives Dean is full of sorrow and remorseful. It’s startling to see and puts Dean on edge more than seeing the gun did. “I’m sorry.” The alpha says, the words barely legible around the blood bubbling up from his lips.

Wait--what? Dean blinks, shocked. A cold chill runs down his spine to pool uncomfortably in his stomach as he parses the alpha’s words. He can’t believe it--did Castiel actually apologize? To him? The idea is inconceivable after everything. He steps back, horror sweeping across his face as he shakes his head. No. No. This can’t be happening! Castiel can’t just apologize like everything is going to be fine and forgiven! It just doesn’t _work _that way! He shakes his head again, mouth pressed into a thin line. With one last look at Castiel he turns away offering the alpha his back.

He doesn’t turn back until he hears the sounds of footsteps coming closer. Lifting his head Dean is relieved at seeing Sam heading towards him, his phone still in his hand. “Dean?” He calls out when he gets closer, frowning. “What happened? You okay?”

Dean can’t help it--he snorts. Of course he isn’t okay, he wants to shout. It’s unlikely he’ll ever be ‘okay’ ever again but he doesn’t say that. Instead he just frowns and looks back down, shaking his head. His words are still trapped in his throat though truthfully he doesn’t feel like trying to explain everything to Sam anyway. He listens rather than watches Sam stop between him and Castiel. It’s quiet for a long moment before Sam finally softly says: “He’s gone.”

Dean still doesn’t say anything, for what is there to say? He doesn’t even feel bad really...all he feels inside is blank. “Is the ambulance on the way?” He asks, voice hollow. He figures it is but he needs to fill the silence somehow before Sam takes it upon himself to do so. There’s going to be questions, lots of them, Dean knows, but he’ll deal with that when it happens.

“Yeah.” Sam sounds like Dean feels--hollowed out and empty inside. “Look--before they get here tell me what happened, okay? Whatever it was we can deal with it. I just got you back; I’m not letting you go again!”

Dean opens his mouth only to shut it again without uttering a sound. It’s not that he doesn’t want to answer Sam but more that he feels . . . strange. Not quite right in a way he can’t explain. He lifts his head to look his brother in the eyes when he feels it--a sharp burning pain building on the left side of his neck. It’s directly over the spot where the mating bite is and Dean scrambles at the bandages that are covering the mark. It’s been healed for over a month now, yet he still keeps it covered so it can’t be seen. He’s regretting it now as he tears at the bandages with a frantic need for them to be off. The burning is getting worse, traveling up his neck. Distantly Dean can hear Sam calling his name and the sounds of sirens growing closer but he can’t care at the moment.

The burning is growing more and more and more. It radiates outwards like a burning forest fire out of control, unstoppable. He finally rips the last of the bandages off with a strangled cry, horrified to see the blood soaking into the white cloth. Dean clutches his neck, a howl building in his throat as the pain threatens to overwhelm him. The last thought he has before his eyes roll up in his head is the nurses at the hospital were right. The old wives tales really are true--Castiel’s dead and Dean will suffer despite not being the one who pulled the trigger.

His screams follow him into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam try to convince Castiel to put the gun down to no avail. Sam jumps Castiel and a moment later Dean does the same. The three of them tussle before the gun goes off. . . Sam and Dean get up but Castiel doesn't. He's been shot in the stomach though it's unclear who fired the shot. Castiel tries to apologize but Dean doesn't accept it; he turns his back leaving Castiel to die alone. Sam calls for help despite it already being too late. The story ends as Dean suddenly collapses due to horrible pain from the mating bite Castiel inflicted on him. It is unclear what happens to him.
> 
> ***If there's enough interest I may post some timestamp/one-shots from this verse down the road somewhere that didn't make it into this story.***


End file.
